The Doctor at Downton
by Anonymississippi
Summary: We all know that Isobel Crawley is really former PM Harriet Jones. So how did she end up at Downton? Why, the weeping angels of course! Can the Doctor and Donna help her and the family before the angels send them to another time? Set after S1 of Downton, after S4 of Who. A Doctor/Donna adventure, which could lead to more. T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

_**This is my first stab at a Doctor Who or Downton fic. My inner anglophile has been through some withdrawals lately. I know I'm casting a rather narrow net here, so any reviews would be appreciated. I do not own Doctor Who, nor Downton. I hear that guy from Monarch of the Glen owns one of them. This first bit is heavy on the Downton, light on the Who, but it's more of a Who story. Enjoy :)**  
_

Isobel Crawley sat in the Earl of Grantham's library, along with Matthew, Robert, Cora, and the Dowager Countess herself, Lady Violet Grantham. News and plans of entrance in the Great War were spreading rapidly across the countryside, and, unfortunately for the Earl and his family, Downton was not exempt from its influence. Robert's position in the Boer Wars would make him a significant ally, as Isobel knew Matthew would be intent on working through the advanced and speedy officer training that would deign him the head of many fine young men. Many fine young men, sent off to die. And yet, Isobel saw the need for war. Less for conquering, and more for preservation. Regrettably, the attack was necessary for the defense. She shook her head in answer to Cora's last comment.

"I don't see why you should not allow the young men on staff to join up if they are young and able. You are talking about maintaining the decorum of lifestyle in the face of war, cousin." She remarked with underhanded distaste, a lingering sense of hostility toward the stuffy American in the family.

"Maintaining the decorum, as you say Cousin Isobel, I believe is necessary to keep spirits up, not only here but in the village as well. If we are to persevere through this war, and there's no telling how quickly it will progress, normality should be maintained as best it can."

"But it's a war!" Isobel ejaculated. "Nothing is _normal_ about a war."

"That is so, but what is the harm in the attempt at normality? We should not revert to savagery, simply because our daily living is being inconvenienced," Violet said. "And besides, we are not withholding their participation merely for our own benefit. It is for the benefit of the servants, of the villagers. Their families. They may be under the employ, or be tenants of the Earl, but that does not mean we shall line them up like animals for the slaughter."

"You're being unreasonable, Mother." The Earl ran a hand over his tired face and stalked to the window from his position near the fireplace. "Britain's involvement has only just been announced. Young men from the village, the staff, the surrounding shires, they are all enthused." He stared grimly out the window. "Full of youthful joy and the hope of adventure. They do not yet know the terrors of war."

"Or the importance of making difficult decisions," Isobel said.

Matthew finally inserted his opinion. "It is not as if these things can be controlled. I've heard from the staff that Thomas has already spoken with Dr. Clarkson, looking for a position in the Medical Corps. And I'm sure the impending conscription process will take care of the rest. What we are more concerned with is the daily running of the estate should Cousin Robert and I both be called away at the same time."

"I assure you I am completely capable of running my own household," Cora said.

"I did not mean to imply otherwise," Matthew said. "But during a war, certain issues arise that have not had occasion to arise during peacetime. For example, I hate to even speak it, but it is likely that many women will be widowed in the upcoming months. There will be the necessary appeals to the army for compensation. And, not to discount your influence, but the appeal of an Earl has more validity to it than that of the lady of the estate. I fear Sybil would shudder at my saying this, but the truth of the matter is more things _get done_ when men have a say in the process."

Isobel fought hard not to roll her eyes at her son. His Edwardian sensibilities were sometimes just too much for her. But years spent around power-hungry men with less sense than glue showed her that a newer, more adaptive male was needed to carry England into the future. And that's just how she raised her son. He may know the power of men, but he did not wield his influence over anyone unjustly, man or woman. She was proud of how he had turned out. She was wary of his new position as the heir to such an estate as Downton, though. Especially during this time period. Knowing the outcomes changed her perspective on many things, including society and war. But she tried her best to be adaptive, to hone that quality she attempted to instill in Matthew over the years.

She broke her reverie and spoke again. "It's not as if we are about to solve the problems of selective service during an afternoon tea."

"Well said, cousin," Violet replied. "I would much rather know if I am to be invited for dinner, considering the lateness of the hour."

"Mother, you know very well we had every intention of you staying. And you two as well, Matthew, Cousin Isobel. It would be nothing for Carson to add two more to table," Robert said.

"That is very kind of you, thank you," Matthew said. "Mother, have you any objections? I would very much like to stay and speak with Cousin Robert concerning the officer's courses."

"Of course not dear. Will it be any bother for Branson to drive us into the village after dinner?" Isobel asked.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Cora said. "I'll ring for Carson to let him know we'll have two extra places at dinner." Cora rose and crossed to the bell rope, but Carson quickly came in before she had the chance to tug on the material.

"Speak of the devil," Robert said.

"I'm very sorry to interrupt m'lady, but we have two guests who have called upon the Earl. They apologize for their lateness, but insist upon speaking with his lordship at once."

"It does not seem proper to call so late, and with no post to signify their intention," Cora said.

"I would have sent them away directly, m'lady, but the gentleman is a doctor. His credentials are quite impressive."

"Oh, it's no bother Carson. Show them in. Dinner won't be ready for another two hours in any case."

"Yes, m'lord." Carson exited as quickly as he entered.

"Lady Grantham, Cousin Isobel, would you like to accompany me upstairs to prepare for dinner?" Cora asked. "We may leave the gentleman to converse with the visitors."

"By all means," Violet replied. "I'm not one for strange introductions in the country after a certain o'clock. It distempers me."

"I'm fine here, thank you," Isobel replied. "I was hoping to retrieve a book I had earlier mentioned to Cousin Robert. That is, if you don't mind the intrusion, Robert?"

"No, fine, fine. If the guests wish to speak privately they may, but if not, you're fine as you are."

"Thank you," Isobel said.

Lady Violet and Cora stood and exited the room, and Matthew crossed to speak with Robert near the large window. It was still relatively light out, so Isobel made her way to the far side of the library, scouring the shelves for an old book Robert mentioned concerning diseases during the 19th century. She knew, unlike much of her new family, that more men were taken from illness than bullets during war. And she would arm herself with the one weapon she could during this period: knowledge, faulty though it may be. Knowing what other people _thought_ was correct and what she _knew_ was correct helped her to more tactfully insist upon more modern, sometimes riskier treatments. She found the book and turned to the table of contents, wincing once she realized how many vaccinations for the diseases listed as 'incurable' were to come in the next 50 years of scientific innovation.

She heard Carson come back through the door to announce the late callers.

"This is Dr. Smith and his secretary, Miss Noble. They are with the medical recruitment offices out of…"

"Chiswick."

"Yes, Chiswick," Carson said, with a leveled amount of contempt.

Isobel turned suddenly at the voice of Dr. Smith, staring aghast and wide-eyed as he bounded across the room to take the Earl's hand. The tall, unbelievably thin man in an old tan great coat and trainers yet-to-be-invented strode confidently across the library, followed closely by a woman with cropped red hair. The style was literally years ahead of its time. Isobel opened the book and peered over the top, ducking against the shelves in hopes that she could observe unnoticed.

Dr. Smith continued vigorously shaking the Earl's hand as he introduced himself. "Yes, right, lovely meeting you m'lord. And you, sir. Meeting lots of people— loads really, lately. Lovely village, just grand. Anyway…" Dr. Smith pranced about the room, looking carefully out the window into the garden, up above at the archways, eyes darting around the shelves of books. "Just a quick question, is there a chapel on the premises?"

"I'm sorry," Matthew said, with an attempt at maintaining some propriety in the presence of the agitated gentleman. "Just who are you?"

"Didn't the man in the penguin suit just tell you?" The red-headed lady quipped.

"Right, sorry, yes. Dr. John Smith, recruiter first class, army medical corps and whatnot. And my secretary, Donna Noble." The man flashed a piece of paper in front of Matthew and Robert, signifying his credentials.

"Since when does a doctor need a secretary?" Robert asked.

"Weeeeell, I'm more administrative than anything. She takes notes. Correspondence. That sort of thing."

"100 words per minute," the woman said, wiggling her fingers.

"Donna, anachronisms," chided the Doctor.

"They do _have_ typewriters."

"Right yes, sorry. As we were saying, we set up hospices, convalescent homes and recovery centers in the country side and places that are willing to help with the war effort," the Doctor said.

"Just you two?" Robert questioned.

"Noooo, there's loads of us. Got us an entire department, haven't we? We're just, you know…" The Doctor was still fidgeting, walking around the library, picking up foreign objects much to the horror of Matthew and Robert. Whenever Donna addressed the gentlemen, he would quickly remove a cylindrical tube with a blue light and scan the objects. Isobel suppressed a gasp, still doing her best to observe behind the safety of the shelves.

"We're going around to all the estates," the Doctor continued, "to see if the family homes or the local churches would mind donating some space for the hospitals and recovery centers that will be needed in the upcoming months. We go through, do thorough inspections of the areas, determine spacing and what not, send it back to London, and then we'll have beds for our injured men upon their return." He stopped his fidgeting and stared profoundly at Matthew. "And I believe that is something we desperately need at this point."

Robert and Matthew stood awkwardly, taking in this strange duo as Dr. Smith returned to Miss Noble's side. "You don't have to agree now, of course." Donna said. "However, we would really appreciate a look around the properties, merely as an estimation if and when you do agree, so we can avoid a return visit."

"Nothing worse than redundancy, am I right?" the Doctor asked.

"Um… yes, well." Robert cleared his throat and did his best to assert his authority as Earl when confronted by the strange, thin man in what could only be described as disheveled array for 1914. "We've just been discussing the prospects of war with the family. And we do wish to help in anyway we can. I'm sure that someone from the household would like to show you to some of the churches. Matthew here is quite fond of the old places."

"Oh, yes?" The Doctor asked. "Like the stone work? Any fascination with some of the statues there? Or is it just the raw power that a sacred place possesses, eh?"

"No, uhm, not particularly, any of those reasons." Matthew said.

"So what instilled this fascination?" Donna asked.

"My mother did, actually," Matthew said. "She's always had an interest in architecture. More so government buildings than churches, though. Mother?"

Isobel couldn't hide anymore. She was surprised she had gone unnoticed this long. But leave it to the Doctor to hone in on his mission and disregard everything else. She called over her shoulder, face still buried in her book. "Yes, dear?"

"Would you mind coming over here?" Matthew asked. "I would like to introduce Dr. Smith and Miss Noble. They've come to scout some of the empty spaces for possible recovery centers when the soldiers return."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not all they're here for," Isobel said. She walked the few paces and stood by Matthew, raising her head and shutting the book with a defiant _thwack_. "Hello Doctor," Isobel said. "It's been far too long." She extended her hand, the corners of her lips peaking at the stunned look on his face.

"Harriet Jones?" the Doctor asked, grasping her extended hand in both of his.

"Prime Minister." Isobel replied cheekily.

"Yes," Donna said in astonishment. "We know who you are."

"But they don't," Isobel said, indicating the men to her right.

Matthew and Robert stared dumbfounded, as the other three burst into uncontrollable laughter.

**_Reviews appreciated._**


	2. Chapter 2

_**So... this goes in with the story and all, but it's also my fix to Journey's End. Because that was just too sad. Like sadder than the ASPCA commercials sad, and that's saying something. Don't own, never will. Enjoy :)**_

Donna Noble was not usually uncomfortable in any situation. She spoke her mind, told anyone and everyone off who deserved it, and had even been dubbed brilliant on more than one occasion. But standing in this grand library, in one of the biggest castles, that is, one of the biggest _Earthly_ castles that she had ever seen, with the _Prime Minister_, alongside two stuffy men in tweed staring at her as though she were a tad loopy, had her return to reality before either the Doctor or, apparently, PM Harriet Jones. Donna straightened and addressed the two others directly.

"Oh yes, good times. What a lovely joke about _you being the Prime Minister_." She punctuated her final words with widened eyes and a less-than-subtle head gesture toward Matthew and Robert.

"So, I take it you three have met before?" Robert asked, which Donna felt was painfully obvious.

"Mother, who are these… acquaintances of yours?" Matthew asked.

"Yes, well, that is…" Harriet stuttered. "They are old friends from when I was with the nurses' union." She nodded pointedly at the Doctor and Donna.

"Yes, that's right we are!" the Doctor said, rather unconvincingly. "Cause, you know, I'm a doctor and all."

"We understand that bit." Robert said. "Unions, really?"

"But how did you…" Donna trailed off. "I didn't know you were staying in this part of the country," she said, with an overt implication to the impossible.

"It is a rather marvelous story, that," Harriet/Isobel replied. "A story for another time, I'm afraid."

"Mother, you best excuse yourself to prepare for dinner," Matthew said. He was eyeing her protectively in front of the two strangers. Donna thought it seemed a bit unnecessary, given that his supposed 'mother' had just had a good laugh with them for a solid minute or two.

"I should. You're right, Matthew," Harriet/Isobel said. "You must call on me tomorrow at Crawley house in town," she said, addressing the Doctor and Donna. "That is… how long will you be in town?" she asked, words loaded with other unspoken questions.

"Long enough to figure out what happened to you," Donna mumbled. The Doctor gave her a slight nudge. "That is… long enough to hear you talk about everything after all these long years, old friend." She gave her, the flippin' Prime Minister, an awkward pat-punch to the arm.

The Doctor stepped in to save her. "Yes, we're sticking around for our… project, as we said. With the buildings. The stone structures in particular. And to catch up with you, of course. But, we best be off now. Don't want to impose on your dinner. Hope it's lovely. We'll call tomorrow morning. Loads to catch up on. Loads! Earl, Mr. Crawley, splendid to meet you. Har— Mrs. Crawley." The Doctor and Donna back-tracked hastily.

Robert nearly stopped them. "I can ring the butler to show you out."

"Nope, that's ok. We're good. Just gonna, pop out the front around the corner here," Donna said. "Not gonna take anything. If we did, she's seeing us tomorrow, haha," tilting her head toward Isobel. "Night, lovely meeting you. Ooooh, look at that urn! Persian, yeah?"

"Allons-y!" the Doctor said, and he pulled Donna out the front door.

"Could you believe the look on her face?" Donna asked, trekking across the gravel driveway, layers of skirt hiked up around her calves. "Looked like she'd seen a ruddy ghost!"

"More like we've seen a ghost. Martha said she was killed by the Dalek laser. She saw it on the subwave network connection. Sarah Jane and Jack did, too. He watched when she transferred control!"

"She looks about twenty years older now…"

"And there's no way that man is her son," the Doctor said.

"Oi! You don't know that. There's no way she could have survived a Dalek laser, so how do we know the PM didn't get younger during time travel? She could've got busy and partied like it's 1899."

The Doctor shrugged his shoulders in concession. "I don't think it works that way."

They walked on in silence, making their way back to a little copse of trees roughly 30 meters from the road where the TARDIS had landed.

"She can't have been the one to pull us here, though. She was just as surprised to see us as we were to see her." Donna said.

"But that doesn't mean we weren't supposed to meet her. Chain of events and all. Timey wimey. I've been connected with her through a lot of stuff."

"Don't get me wrong or anything, but didn't you hate her? You destroyed her entire regime."

"I did. And I think she knows why. She was too much like me. Well, me without somebody to tighten the reigns. She never had someone like you to hold her back, so on she went, making decisions that affected millions. She thought what she did was right, I'll give her that. And she spent her supposed last moments trying to contact me, which I think means something."

"But she's ingratiated herself with this family, this really big important family!" Donna said, tossing her jacket over one of the railings in the console room. "That Earl guy nearly fainted when she dropped the whole, '_I'm a toffy Lady from the early 20__th__ century, please excuse me while I laugh in public and frown upon women who want the vote_' bit." She turned and dropped her fake notebook on the jump seat. "God, I can't breathe in this thing. I hate corsets!" she said, unbuttoning the top few clasps running up her neck.

"It's for propriety's sake, Donna. Which, by the way, you should watch yourself next time we speak with them."

"What you tryin' to say?"

"Donna, you know better. Women during the early 20th century—"

"Were demure little pieces who didn't know up from down without a man to direct them, yes, I know. Whatever you know, I know." He gave her a pointed eyebrow raise. "To an extent," she airily conceded.

"That's right. Now, if we're going to get to those churches—"

"I still don't see why we couldn't do a scan with the sonic."

"Because the angels would more than likely tune into the energy released by the scan. The last time I encountered these quantum locked angels, I underestimated them. I ended up back in the past, sans TARDIS mind you, and it took some humans to get me out. Say we start visiting these churches, find the angels, and it doesn't go so well like last time. We could end up in 1614, not 1914. Imagine, 1914, we're right on the brink of—"

"The telephone! Widespread electricity use! Some of the earliest innovations with motorcars. 1914, a very good year," she agreed, grinning with a slight head bob at her own answer.

Donna Noble beamed as she faced the Doctor, the tiniest fleck of gold energy still visible in her blue eyes. He returned the smile and circled the console, murmuring to himself about weeping angels, DVDs, and time-locked quantum energy. She knew what all of that meant once upon a time. But now, it was limited. None of his memories, but all of hers and then some, stemming from that life-altering metacrisis regeneration. She thought back, reliving the painful episode, thankful that it was now weeks behind her. Behind them.

Her knowledge had doubled, tripled, increased exponentially after the metacrisis regeneration. She saw everything there was in the paradoxical vortex, power that both bolstered and crippled her mind. She knew now, she was the one, the _only_ one in the universe capable of withstanding the metacrisis and lasting as long as she did without the Doctor's interference. But after leaving his companions on Earth, after the heartfelt departure with his duplicate and Rose at Bad Wolf Bay in the parallel, she collapsed. Couldn't take it. Everything he had seen, everything he had done, it was all too much. And she knew. Right from the beginning when she touched the hand, she knew. She couldn't stay that way. Maintain that energy. No human could. Even her, whom universes constructed themselves around; she wasn't capable of channeling that type of power. But she could fight, and think, conjecture and hypothesize with this new knowledge, this unhinged power of grey matter. And the entire time, even while she was fiddling with switches in the heart of the Dalek ship, while she was trading quips with the Doctor and his duplicate, while she was standing by after every departure, she was thinking. Thinking of a way to secure what little knowledge she could of the Doctor without the complete deletion of all memories past. And she had it. As soon as he closed the TARDIS door at the Bay, and turned to face her with those sad, knowing eyes, she backed away. All the way across the control room floor. She held her hands up and pleaded, explained, argued theory and progression with the Doctor for her plan. She cried and slapped him, and he cried and held her, and they both rested in each other's embrace for a solid thirty minutes. And then, with an almost imperceptible bow of the head, he conceded.

"Okay," he said.

"Really? You'll do it?" she asked, tear tracks still fresh on her cheeks, pain in her head reaching insurmountable proportions.

"If this is what you want."

"It is! I swear, it is. I can't go back. Don't make me go back."

"But I can't help but feel this is the Time Lord in you talking, not the human."

"And I can't contradict you. I know it's both sides, the Time Lord DNA and the human DNA are at theoretical war, but you honestly don't want to know what the human part is telling me to do…" she clutched the sides of her head, eyes still gold and shining, illuminating the red hair messily tucked behind her ears. "It's screaming at me. It, no, _I_ would rather end everything than not know… I would, uhm, pitch myself off a bridge, or in front of a car. I've already done that once," she shook her head, pulse racing. "I know, my mind knows what it would mean, to lose the memories completely, to be without you," she said, clutching at his jacket lapel.

"Oi! Hands," he joked.

She smiled, for what felt like the first time in ages, a genuine, heartbroken smile that saw beyond both their insecurities to their strengths and back again. "I promised you forever. And I meant it. Mates. You 'n me. And we could do it. Simple diffusion of the hydrogen bonds."

"But Donna, that's thousands, more like hundreds of thousands of bonds you'd be breaking. It would be excruciating."

"More excruciating than now? This isn't just a dull ache we can bypass with an aspirin."

The Doctor ran his hands through his hair, frustrated, anxious, and, Donna could tell, more than a little bit scared. "It will probably require more empty cells. A more complex structure, not just basic protein bonds. An energy transfer of that magnitude would need thousands of connections, storage space for every planet and history I've witnessed, every book I've read for 900 YEARS! I mean, I lopped off my entire hand for this type of transfer!" He took a deep breath and leaned against the railing of the TARDIS. "It would take so much mental strength to siphon the energy to a single body part."

"But it's not a _single_ body part. And besides, you regrew a whole regeneration from that hand. I don't need a new body, just a storage facility! And you don't have to take it all. Just the knowledge from space. But the facts of the Earth, my history, and the science! There's enough latent brainwave capabilities for maximum use still present and properly functioning in the human brain for me to retain all historical and scientific facts from Earth. It's merely inactive, waiting to be used! I can do it; I know I can do this!" she yelled.

"Donna, it's risky. It's so risky. There's a 93.276% risk for failure."

"And a 6.724% chance of success, if not factoring objective higher brain function or sheer will. But I can do it. Hell hath no fury and all that mess," she lowered her voice in an attempt to compose herself. "You know I can do this, 'cause I've got the human in me. Only an idiot, well not an idiot. Only someone with so much to lose would take this risk," she said, choking out a laugh. "It's brilliant. You're thinking it, you just won't say it."

"That little bit of human, that spark of ingenuity—"

"That makes you Time Lords look like babies in the cradle compared to me. Someone once told me… Everybody knows that everybody dies," she hiccupped. "And nobody knows that like you. But not today. You're not alone today." Her eyes blazed gold, intense and achingly beautiful. Her breath hitched, and she nearly doubled over. But when she righted herself, the light from the metacrisis draped over her powerful form. She took the Doctor's arms and spoke to him in Gallifreyan.

"I am unlike any being ever created, much like yourself. I have seen the bounds of time and space and understand the limits that may bring my own demise. I see the edge of reality, the end and beginning of things that have been and are yet to come. The clarity, the brevity of life and time terrify me, and yet I refuse to let that overtake me."

He moved into her, resting his forehead against hers. Her internal temperature was reaching 316.3 Kelvin, an impossible temperature for a human.

"My emotions, the part of this knowledge and this body that maintains my humanity, rejects those limitations, and chooses, yes, _chooses_ to continue," she said. "I will not succumb. Not without trying every avenue possible to save myself, with or without your help. Because even if you can forget me, I will not, _cannot_, forget you."

And with that, she collapsed, releasing a powerful scream that echoed through the halls of the TARDIS. The Doctor barely caught her upper body, sliding haphazardly with her down to the metal grating of the floor. His silent tears flowed hotly, warmed by his own anger as well as Donna's body heat. She writhed painfully on the floor, convulsing as the Doctor did his best to keep her from harming herself. She shouted swears and phrases in Gallifreyan, words that had the Doctor smiling through his own pain. A final twitch of her body and a deep breath, and then she sunk, exhausted, even further into his arms. He rested his head on top of her own, tears drying in her literally flaming red hair, as she delicately lifted her head to face him.

Seconds, minutes, hours, or days after their stare, she inserted her hand into his and pulled him up. "I need you, now," she said, reverting back to her natural English.

He stood with her, drawn to the gold vortex overtaking her pupils.

"I'm here for you," he said.

"When we cut it, it'll be worse than this, right?"

"Yes."

"It could cause a coma."

"Yes."

"Or I could die."

"That too."

"But you'll stay with me?" she asked, pleading.

He brushed her hair back, damp with sweat and tears. She turned and rested her cheek in his hand, shutting her eyelids and momentarily extinguishing the flame there. Worse than Pompeii. Worse than Midnight. So much worse than Midnight, the Doctor thought.

"You know it," he whispered. He wiped at his own tears, forcing his voice steady. "You're my best friend, you know that right?"

She grinned. "And you're mine. I wouldn't ask anyone else."

Eyes still closed, she grabbed the hand at her cheek, rotated it, and placed a loving, gentle kiss to the back of his knuckle. The past two hours had involved the most intimate touching either had ever shared with the other, yet neither seemed to care.

"Right then," she said, sniffling slightly and entwining his fingers with hers. "This isn't like an arrest. Because believe me, I've been through quite enough of those, on Earth and in space. You can't use any of this against me when I see you on the other side. Right, Spaceman?" she plastered her classic Donna Noble smile on her very determined face. He could never argue with that.

"Of course," he said.

"Then let's get on with it then. Allons-y." She pulled their entwined fingers and set off for the medical bay in the back of the TARDIS, eager to begin the procedure that could save or end her life.

_**Reviews appreciated, as are alternate endings that turn out the way you wanted them to. **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thanks to everyone who's been reading so far. I promise we're getting into the meat of the story, it's just a bit long. The longest one I've written in fact. As to whether the Doctor and Donna are 'together', I've written it as more of a friendship piece, but theirs has always been a what's-lurking-under-the-surface-of-this-friendship relationship anyway. So tilt your head and squint, and you might see something more... Don't own, never will. Wish I did, but I can't.**_

"More tea, sir?" Molesley asked the Doctor.

"Ah, no thanks, I've got enough to set me straight," he said, hoisting his cup and toasting the butler. Molesley raised his eyebrows at Isobel Crawley.

"Molesley, that's well enough. If you would be so kind, I would really like to speak to my guests in private. I'll ring if we need anything."

"Yes mam," Molesley said. After a brisk bow, he retreated awkwardly, bumping into the doorjamb along the way. Isobel crossed and shut the door to the small parlor at Crawley house, returning with a slight smile as she sat across from the Doctor and Donna.

"Now, tell me," she began enthusiastically. "What's become of modern England? Have there been any further extraterrestrial contacts? Have they started the London Olympic games yet? Has Adele written a happy song?" she stared bright-eyed at her two tea-guests, turning fervently from one to the other.

"We'll get to your questions, but I have a couple for you first," the Doctor said.

"Oh of course, how silly of me. Well, I'll answer what I can, but I'm afraid I won't be of much use."

"Why's that then?" Donna asked.

"Frankly, I'm as befuddled as you as to why I've been transported here. It's been a difficult journey, really. Assimilating to a new culture for nineteen years is tiresome work indeed, even for a previous government official." She sipped her tea casually, as if conversations like this took place everyday in her parlor.

"I'm sorry, nineteen years?" Donna asked.

"Yes, I do hope the press cameras didn't add age as well as weight when I was delivering speeches. I wasn't _this_ old in office. But it's been nineteen long years since I saw one side of the 21st century. But, if you'll pardon me, just who are you exactly?"

"Oh, sorry mam', Donna Noble," Donna said, extending her hand. "Part human, part Time Lord."

"Donna…" the Doctor said.

"Alright then. More like, 98% human, 2% Time Lord. But, Dalek invasion day? Planets in the sky? Yeah, I put 'em back, just so you know," Donna said.

"Then we all owe you a debt of gratitude," Harriet Jones said, raising her teacup to Donna.

"You see that, I just got saluted by the bleedin' Prime Minister!"

"Very good, Donna," the Doctor said. "But, as you and I and Harriet here are well aware, she's not the Prime Minister anymore."

"As it should be," Harriet said.

"But how did you survive the Dalek attack? Jack told me you were killed after transferring control of the subwave network over to Torchwood. Brilliant idea that, by the way, to contact me. Thanks for setting it up. But still, what happened there?" the Doctor asked.

"I wasn't hit full on by that laser. In fact, it had to have missed completely, or else I wouldn't be sitting here at tea today. But it hit the communication system, causing enough of an explosion to knock me half way to Wales. Honestly, I was almost ten kilometers from the communication station when I woke up. I wish I could remember what happened." Her tone was one of a politician. She was calm, relaxed, as if she had rehearsed her death speech dozens of times, which, the Doctor thought, she had. "I came to the conclusion that I was a lucky soul, and had suffered some head injury after the explosion, causing some short term memory loss in which I walked the deserted streets of London. After the attack, I found myself at a loss for purpose. I had spent much of my time after my deposal," she looked pointedly at the Doctor, "… underground, attempting to contact further extraterrestrial experts, in the event that something like the invasion would take place. But I wandered that night, avoiding any Dalek confrontation. I found myself in a churchyard. I had never sought much guidance on the spiritual level in the past, but that night, in the face of such destruction, having my life spared, it was… calming. Just to sit there, in the stone garden, surrounded by angels."

The Doctor and Donna exchanged frantic looks.

"These angels," Donna asked. "Were they crying?"

"What do you mean?" Harriet asked.

"Were their hands, their stone hands, covering their faces?"

"I'm not quite sure what you're getting at," Harriet said, falling into modern slang.

"Oh, come on, you know," the Doctor raised his hands, covering his face like a child playing peek-a-boo.

"Or it might have been one of these!" Donna slung her arm in front of her eyes, giving the impression of a lady swooning.

"Oh, yes, I see what you mean, like so," and Harriet shielded her face in much the same way, tucking her head and raising her hands like a visor covering her eyes.

"I've brought you a few biscuits mam', perhaps you would like somethi—" Molesley froze, hands laden with a silver tray and biscuits, staring at the three in various poses. "What are you—"

"Oh, Molesley!" Harriet said. "Just a little, ehm, game, you see!"

"A game?"

"Yes, exactly. Something we did when we were younger," the Doctor said. "Nurses union. Funny poses, all in a day's healing. Helping the patients…"

"Recuperate!" Donna offered.

"Right. Humor the humors, humor the body. That's what I always say," the Doctor said. Donna and Isobel gawked at the Doctor, Donna mouthing, 'what does that even mean?'.

"An experimental treatment, I presume?" asked Molesley.

"Oh, I do like experiments," the Doctor replied.

"Yes, well, Molesley, that was lovely of you to bring up the biscuits. Very kind. That will be all for now."

"Yes mam." And Molesley made, if possible, an even more awkward retreat than his first.

"Strange sort of bloke ain't he?" Donna said.

"Molesley's been known to jump at his own shadow. Now about these angels, do you believe they are the reason I've been stuck here?"

"Oh, I am certain of it," the Doctor said, grabbing a biscuit. "You see, there are these stone angels, I'm not even sure of their true species name, that feed off of potential time energy from a human's designated timeline. You may well have lived out your life in the 21st century; but, having faced and escaped death multiple times, and, considering your former position, you might have had further potential energy stored for another go at politics, or world changing, or what have you. Couldn't resist a specimen like you could they?" The Doctor rose and began pacing. "But what is it that they want?" he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"He does this, it's his thinking process," Donna said.

"World War I, World War I, what was happening during World War I?" he asked.

"Apart from the obvious?" Donna quipped.

"Harriet, has there been any alien involvement made known? Anything within the past few years that you might have recognized as abnormal?"

"Well, there was news of an incident at a boys' school further south sometime last year. Something about scarecrows coming to life, but that whole affair died down rather quickly. I assumed it was some publicity stunt to increase enrollment."

"Nope, that was me," the Doctor said, frustration returning. "Donna, run down of events in Great Britain, years 1912 to 1914, central focus on WWI."

"Under King George V, the nation of Great Britain was headed by Prime Minister Herbert Henry Asquith of the Liberal party, when the suffragette movement was in full force. The sinking of the Titanic made international headlines in 1912, as well as the British government's involvement in the Marconi scandal. On the international front, foreign European empires, most notably the German and Austro-Hungarian, as well as the Russian, continued their quest for further expansion, leading to hostilities—"

"What does this have to do with stone angels?" Harriet interrupted.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," the Doctor said, sinking back down in his chair.

"So the time period is independent of their involvement," Donna said.

"Yes, and no. Something that's happening now, something is sending a huge beacon out to these angels that is calling them here. Something has been changed in the course of history that wasn't here before…" his head turned to look at Harriet. "You."

"What about me?"

"Of coooooourse! That's got to be it!"

"I love it when he does this," Donna said.

"I hate it when he does this," Harriet returned.

"It's you! Weeeell, not just you. But you, and me, and now, and last year. And all that unnatural energy just sitting right here for the taking. It lingers on you the same way it lingers on everyone! Even all these years later."

"Would you mind explaining what you're talking about?" Harriet asked, patience waning.

"Yeah, even I'm a bit lost on this one, Time Boy."

"The year 1913, when I altered my genetic structure completely to become human. I was here for nearly three months, in that school to the south. And then, the Titanic! It sinks in 1912, a different Titanic than the one I was on, but still, there's the connection of origination. Your station, you and your son, he was promoted to the position of estate heir after the sinking of the Titanic, making him, and his 'mother,' _you_, the force that it centered on! Yes, you! Brilliant!" he said feverishly, holding out both hands to Harriet. "You're here, have been here for years, apparently. But what's more, all of these events have coincided to create this bundle of residual time energy, a charge of power just waiting to be harnessed, if only they knew how to collect it."

"And how do they collect it, Doctor?" Harriet asked.

"I've not left any object here. Other than the TARDIS, that's only just got here. And they can have no way of possessing it; they tried and failed the last time. But the people!"

"But the people, Doctor!" Donna parroted. "You've connected with the people. Those students, to the south of here, you taught them for months! They could very well live in this village," Donna said, her vocal tone inching toward clarification. "And Harriet Jones! You've interacted with her multiple times! You've left sort of a… uhm… carbon footprint on them! Well, less carbon, more Time-Lord energy. Every person here who you've interacted with has taken away some of your energy signature. Or a… time energy signature, of some kind. Every person they've interacted with, in turn, has spread it, more and more, until it's dispersed itself all through this time period, all around this area. They've got to be looking for the source!"

"But I'm the source!" the Doctor said. "There's been no guarantee that I would come here from the start of it all! Which means they've got to be after— oh."

Harriet Jones was tapping her foot in exasperation, knowing very well what was coming next. "So the big statues are coming to get me, the one with some weird bundle of lingering unidentified energy. The one who's had the most contact with you. And for the second time, apparently. What do we do?"

"All we have to do is figure out a way to keep the angels away from you. You, and, well, anyone you've had prolonged interaction with for the past several years, so as not to increase the absorbed energy," the Doctor answered.

"So, you mean my son?"

"Yes, Matthew Crawley, what's all that about? I'm sorry to tell you this mam', but there's no way that's your son. You weren't _that_ young when they took you the first time," the Doctor rambled.

"There's this little thing called tact," Donna said.

"As if you've got any of it," the Doctor answered.

"You both know very well that I could not have had a child. But that man is my son, for all intents and purposes," Isobel said, rising. "I raised him as his governess, from a very young age, and assumed his mother's identity after her untimely demise when he was still a very little boy. His father and mother were both medical personnel, so he is the rightful heir to the estate that we currently visit, the estate you visited yesterday. I have devoted nineteen years of my life, my very disrupted life, to him and his good fortune. If I have spent time with anyone repeatedly, it would be him. He and his future family on that estate, as well as this townhouse here. They are good people, at heart. A little stubborn and traditional for my view, but well-meaning. And I can't argue with well-meaning."

She placed her head in her hands and slowly began to rub her temples. "I am nineteen years older than when I last spoke with someone from a year post-2000. My mind has taken on certain opinions that have strengthened my progression and adaptability to this time period, but I do not wish to be transported to another time yet again. I am too old, and far too attached to that young man, who, as I see it, will be my son until the day I die. So please, if you would help me, I implore your aid and protection. I know we have had our differences, but these people should not be punished for my mistakes. Please save them, save my son, and, if you're feeling particularly generous Doctor," she raised her head to meet his gaze full on. "Save me as well."

"I will not hold your past acts against you. And I agree that no one should be hurt for any reason, especially when that harm goes to reinforce a hostile species' negative opinion of the human race. So we will help you avoid them, as best we can. We'll help your family, too, Mrs. Crawley," he added, with the sheen of understanding in his eyes.

Harriet Jones, Prime Minister, now Isobel Crawley, desperate mother, crossed the room toward the Doctor. He mirrored her and they embraced briefly.

"Yeah, you get a hug, and all I get is a blasted teacup toast," Donna said. She threw back the rest of her tea with one gulp and rose to join the Doctor. Isobel showed them out of the parlor toward the door.

"You'll just need to avoid going to the church yard. The angels will try to blend in to the environment first, and will only branch out if the source doesn't come to them," the Doctor said, standing at her doorstep.

"This is 1914. If I don't go to church for any reason other than being confined to the sick-bed, I shall be shunned mercilessly by the community."

"What's worse, though? A bit of societal shunning, or the potential of transport back to plague-era times?" Donna said.

"It's not like I can keep the whole Crawley family from attending the service. I've just had express contact with five of them yesterday alone! Is there not a way to combat these angels?"

"Yeah, always keep your eyes on them," the Doctor warned.

"What?"

"If you see them, and when you do, you'll know it straight away, don't blink. Don't turn around. Always keep looking at them. As long as you keep them in your sight, they can't move. As soon as you turn your back, the trouble starts. A whole congregation will be there. Too many eyes. I suppose it's okay for you to go. It will give us a chance to do some investigating anyway," the Doctor said.

"When is Sunday?" Donna asked. "We never know exactly what day we land on half the time."

"It's tomorrow," Isobel said.

"Right then, the sooner the better," the Doctor said. "We ought to be off then." He grabbed Donna's hand, which she shifted adroitly to his arm, and began walking back down the village sidewalk.

"Miss Noble," Isobel called. "A word?"

Donna ran back up the stairs as the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and started scanning lampposts.

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to make sure you know that I want you to help my son. If it comes down to me or him, please pick him."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't feel like the Doctor trusts me. Not after the Sycorax affair. It's been years for me, not so long for him. In my old age I know now what I did, but I need you to vouch for me."

"Oh, no problem, mam'. If I know, he knows."

"So you two are…" Isobel trailed off, giving Donna a pointed look.

"What? No! Lord, no. We're just mates is all. You know, travel the universe, time and space, that bit."

"I see," Isobel said incredulously.

"No, really. See, when the Daleks came a bit of his energy passed into me, and I got to see his memories, so we're telepathically linked a little. Essentially the same person!"

"You're the same as him?"

"No, not, the _same_ exactly. Look," Donna continued, not wanting to go through explaining the whole painful process to the former Prime Minister. "He had to get it out of me, all his, well,_ alien_ness, and we basically had to lop off a body part of mine and transfer it all there."

"You cut off a part of your body?" Isobel asked, astonished.

"No! Just m' hair!" Donna said, indicating her bob. "See, the keratin protein on the thousands of strands in the human hair is essentially dead cellular space, yet still has enough of a DNA signature to register the triple helical spiral for every hair in place. So, out of the thousands of hairs on the human head, with the thousands of amino acid compounds, I was able to transfer all of his Time Lord knowledge into the thousands of empty cells of my hair, away from my mind, a literal passing of knowledge from brain to every strand of hair on my head. Hurt like _hell_ when he cut it all off, passed out for two whole days. And even then, some residual knowledge was still in my mind. I can work an entire Sudoku book in 14 seconds! Like I said, residual knowledge, but not enough to burn me up. I pretty much know everything there is to know about Earth from its origination to 2490-ish, but no other planets."

"Uh huh," Harriet said, dumbstruck from the long speech.

"All you need to know is, I got ya covered," Donna said.

"Yes, well, thank you, Donna Noble."

"You're welcome… Mrs. Crawley."

"What was all that about?" the Doctor asked once Donna returned to join him down the street.

"Oh, you know. She doesn't think you trust her. Wants you to save her son. Don't hold the Sycorax decision against her, that sort of thing."

"Then why were _you_ the one doing most of the talking?"

"I was _reassuring_ her, Time Boy!"

"Are you sure you weren't _boring_ her, Earth Girl?"

"Come off it! We need to get back to the TARDIS and figure out what you want to do with these alien angels. No way they'll fall for the same trick twice," Donna said, casually linking hands with the Doctor.

"Watch yourself, Donna. You've got to be practically engaged to hold hands in public now."

"Whatever," she said, moving her hand as he offered her his arm instead. "But if we don't get back to the TARDIS and get me out of this corset soon, they're gonna get an eyeful of 21st century impropriety. What are you doing?"

"Slowing down…"

"Why are you… Oi! You cheeky little thing!"

"You know it," he said, smiling all the way back to the TARDIS.

_**Reviews are nice and so are kittens. I'd love to get one or the other, which ever's easiest. **_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Shorter chapter, working in the workers at Downton. Don't own either show, wish I did though. Enjoy :)**_

"I still don't understand what everyone's on about. I mean, it's just a few of Mrs. Crawley's old friends." Daisy Robinson said.

"Yes, but the way ole' Molesley was goin' on about 'em, sounded like they were a bit, you know…" William Mason, Downton's second footman, gave her an odd combination shoulder jolt and bug-eyed glare.

"No, I don't know. And what's wrong with you? You look like you're about to keel over!" She nudged him gently as they walked, the two younger staff members having outdistanced the rest of the servants on their weekly walk to Sunday service. The gravel path rose and fell gently, making it a pleasant stroll for the day.

"Come on Daisy! You know, like they were a bit… mad."

"Mad you say? A doctor? Nah, don't be daft. Molesley's so jumpy anyway, he probably misunderstood what was happening."

"Really? Well," William paused. "I really shouldn't spread gossip…"

"Why!" Daisy jumped. "What have you heard?"

"This morning, while I was going about my basic chores upstairs, I overheard Mr. Crawley askin' for a private address with his Lordship."

"And?" Daisy prodded.

"He requested his Lordship write to London, just to check on the credentials of this Dr. Smith. He said his mother assured him they were just old friends, but he swears, her entire demeanor alters when she speaks of them."

"It is a bid odd though," Daisy said.

"How so?"

"Well, nothing against Mrs. Crawley, but that man's a might young to be her close friend. I mean, she was a nurse nearly twenty, thirty years ago. And that man, from the way Mr. Carson described him, said he looked awful young to have been a doctor with Mrs. Crawley."

They halted outside the churchyard, watching as more village people filed past the wrought iron gates. William threw a glance over his shoulder, seeing that most of the staff from Downton had nearly caught up with them.

"And Mr. Crawley," Daisy continued. "Does he really seem that nervous?"

"I don't think he's nervous, no. I can't put my finger on the word," William said, leaning casually over the gate. "He's got to be disappointed, and a little anxious, what with Lady Mary's hesitancy, well rejection, of the proposal."

"So you think that's all this is? He's mad about Lady Mary and he's taking it out on his mum's friends?"

"Well don't look so excited about it," William chastised. "It's hard when you have feelings for someone who doesn't feel it back," he said, Daisy completely oblivious.

"Plus there's the war," she said.

"Yes, I'm sure he's nervous. Him being so well-off now, he'll be an officer in no time."

"Do you think Mr. Crawley could go off and become a hero? Maybe win back Lady Mary's heart with some daring deed over in France?"

"That's some romantic notions you're harboring there, Daisy," Anna Smith said. She walked up to the pair at the gate and shooed them inside. "And it's not right for either of you two to be talking about Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley's relationship, right out here in the open."

"Sorry," they both said.

"It's a good thing I wasn't Mrs. Hughes, or worse, Mr. Carson, overhearing you talk so disrespectfully."

"We weren't meaning nothing with it, though," Daisy said. "It all started when we were wondering about those peculiar friends that Mrs. Crawley has. Anna, you must have noticed, the staff's been on about 'em all morning!"

Daisy watched as a lean man in a brown coat hopped out from behind one of the stone pillars near the church's entrance.

"Gotcha! Oh, wait, no you don't go disappearing on me again."

"Doctor, we really need to get inside," the red-headed woman said, tugging unceremoniously on his sleeve.

"Alright yes, but they know we're onto them. All these people are just shielding their energy for now. Goin' to the chapel, and we're, gonna find some a-a-angels!"

"Oh, it's song time now is it? Just get inside," and the red headed woman pushed him through the doors.

Daisy and William grinned, turning back to Anna.

"You see! They are a bit off!" William said.

"Off? They're the oddest sort I've ever seen! Did you see what he was wearing? And that lady, she was extremely… forward," Daisy said.

"It's not our place to judge; now, in you go. Or else I'll get Mrs. Patmore on you at luncheon Daisy," Anna gave them a good-hearted shove toward the front doors of the church, turning suddenly to face the open church yard. The final Sunday stragglers darted across worn paths, missing gravestones and sidestepping benches as they approached the church doors. The bells chimed the hour.

"What was that all about?" John Bates asked, hobbling up to join Anna as she waited at the gate.

"Just idle gossip about the family. Daisy's been on about Mrs. Crawley's old acquaintance."

"You mean that doctor fellow?" Bates asked.

"Yes, I do. Why do you ask?"

"His Lordship mentioned something last night, asked me about the Army Medical Corps. And again this morning, if I had kept in touch with any of the physicians, you know, because of the…" he tapped his bad leg with his cane. "…injury. Don't suppose you have any doctors in your family?"

"That'd be a good one," she said teasingly.

"Apparently, his last name is Smith. I'm writing to an old friend who still works at the Corps office, just to get some confirmation for his Lordship."

Anna sighed. "I still don't see why it's any business of ours," she said, noticing a new statue several paces from them. A beautiful angel, on its knees, weeping over a small fountain. "That's new."

"Aye, I've not seen it before," John agreed. They began the walk from the gate to the steps, already knowing they would sit on the back pews so John could stretch his leg out during the service. "As for the Crawley matter," John whispered, entering the vestibule, "If it bothers his lordship, it will bother the household. So I don't see any harm in letting the youths go on with their little stories. Those people are probably just some progressives from London, going about their jobs like we do."

"Very true," Anna replied, the slightest glint in her eye.

As they shut the door, neither noticed the fountain angel directly behind them, eyes wide and teeth bared.

_**Reviews appreciated, like a pretty stone carving that doesn't want to steal your life force. **_


	5. Chapter 5

_**A very short chapter followed by a very long one. But I couldn't figure out where to cut it, so hopefully it still reads well. Anywho, thanks to all for reading. If it wasn't obvious, I own neither of these shows; no matter how much I want to. Enjoy :)  
**_

_Dear God this is boring_, Donna thought. She sent an apology up to the clouds given her current location, just in case. They were over mid-way through the church service, and she had already nodded off twice. No frightening statues, no unexpected aliens, no running for their lives in a mob of screaming village folk. Nope. Just a bit of standing, some singing, and some chanting. The Doctor, ever the observer, couldn't keep his eyes focused on anything in particular. Donna had to rib him every now and then so he would stop staring at people. Other people were staring at him staring, which he didn't seem to mind. Donna, however, had made a promise to Harriet, uh, Isobel, well, Mrs. Crawley, and she didn't want to renege on that oath. She could start by maintaining a semblance of normality, which was rather difficult considering her traveling companion.

They made it to the church after a bit of running, which she knew was coming eventually. It always came. The running. They had visited a smaller chapel on the outskirts of the city that held an earlier service on Sunday mornings. Luckily, there were few families there, the entire congregation maybe totaling thirty individuals. They spotted one of the angels as they exited the building, frozen beside the side entrance. As an experiment, the Doctor waited until no one else was around, then forced Donna to close her eyes. He did the same, and sure enough, the angel was mere millimeters from them when they opened their lids again. The Doctor had circled the angel, asked it questions, demanded to know its plan, gave the usual Doctor ultimatum, and then resigned the attempt at communication. He rubbed a hand over his face in frustration.

"I don't like that he won't talk to me."

Donna rolled her eyes. "How do you know it's a 'he'?"

"I just do."

"Oh, well, since you just _do, _why don't you ask _him_ where all _his_ little buddies are?" she said, getting, quite literally, into the stone angel's face. "Off shooting arrows at unsuspecting yokels, are ya? Or did you leave your quiver back on your home planet?"

"Donna, think less Cupid cherub, more slaughtering Beelzebub." He gently removed her from the angel's personal space. "I'd like to speak more about this, but we don't need him here with us," he whispered in her ear, never taking his eyes off the angel.

"So how do we need to do this?" Donna asked.

"I was thinking we just, well…" the Doctor quirked his head, and started backing away slowly.

"You didn't have a plan for after-the-confrontation, did you?"

"Nope, I got nothin'."

"Lovely. Well, let's just, walk backwards, for as far as we can, and then the running, yes?"

"The running. Yes. That's gotta be it."

They made it nearly fifty meters from the chapel when they turned tail and bolted. They rounded street corners, vaulted over several fences, and even had an incident involving some loose hay bales.

"It's in my eye!"

"No time to worry about that now," the Doctor said, skidding into an empty alley.

"But if I can't _see_ them they're going to send me back in time!"

"Good thing I've got a TIME MACHINE then, now come on!" He tugged her hand down the alley and pulled her under a small inlet, the doorway to some shop or another.

"Has it been following us?" Donna asked, catching her breath.

The Doctor looked down the alley. It was vacant, save an underfed cat huddled near the end.

"I caught a glimpse of it once or twice while we were on the run, but I don't think it's near us now." He looked back at Donna, who was rubbing her eye fiercely. "Now you know better than that," he said, pulling her hand away from her face.

"Yes, but it _itches_!" she insisted.

"Come on now, let me have a look."

They were already wedged rather closely, both their backs resting against the opposite sides of the doorframe. The Doctor took Donna's face in his hands and tilted it out into the alley to use the sunlight.

"Okay, just open your eye, and I'm going to try and get it out."

She wrested out of his grip, left hand immediately returning to clutch at her eye.

"No you don't, Spaceman! Not with those long fingers. And if you say, 'But I'm a Doctor,' I'll poke you so hard neither one of us will have functioning pupils!"

"You're being unreasonable! Just come here a minute," he argued, pulling her back against him.

"Ow! You're hurting me!"

"Well if you would stop moving it wouldn't hurt as much!"

"But you—"

"Shhh!"

"You said—"

"Shhh!"

"I'm gonna—"

The door they were standing beside suddenly opened to reveal a rather portly woman, who seemed to be disposing of the morning trash. She stared wide-eyed at the entwined pair, as the Doctor now held Donna in a sort of reverse-headlock. They were flushed and their attire tousled from the running. As the woman continued to stare, Donna straightened up, squinting painfully but attempting a nonchalant grin.

"And that is how you release the tension in the lower back muscles, thank you Doctor!" she said, extracting herself from his grip. She squinted and twitched, eye watering as she made her best 'causal' face. It was failing miserably.

"Right, yes, and remember,…" the Doctor said, improvising. "… Perform this exercise twice daily to improve… uh… posture?"

The woman didn't stop staring.

"Yes, well, we should be… going to church!" Donna said, saved by the quarter chime of the hour. "Good day to you mam'." And they sprinted back down the alleyway toward the church.

Upon arrival, the Doctor thought he saw one of the statues in the front yard. A quick scan of the sonic indicated no abnormal activity, so Donna was convinced the statue had beaten them to the sanctuary. So far, she had been dead wrong. The only stone glare she'd received since leaving the country chapel was that of the portly woman, catching her and the Doctor in what could have been considered a compromising position. That was going on the list. Her list of "Awkward Situations on Earth." She kept it next to her other lists, "Times I Almost Died" and "Times Where it was HIS Fault." But right now, there was no fault to pass around. There was no awkwardness, and she'd already calmed down from the early morning running. She spotted the Prime Minister, no, Mrs. Crawley, sitting with her son on a pew near the front of the church. The blonde man was exercising tremendous effort not to look at an attractive brunette sitting on the same row, but across the aisle from him. She was surrounded by three other women whom Donna couldn't tell much about from behind. To their left was the gentleman she had spoken with in the library upon hers and the Doctor's arrival, Earl Robert Stuffington or something. She and the Doctor were seated at the very back of the church, a considerably tight spot given the vast number of people in attendance. Whereas the early service in the country chapel was sparse, this service was packed. And it wasn't because the vicar was super captivating, Donna could tell. It must be because Lord Stuffington attends this service with his family.

Suddenly, the Doctor grabbed Donna's thigh. He squeezed his hand through the layers of fabric, earning her even more judgmental glares from the people on her row. She seemed to be getting a lot of those glares lately. He gestured discreetly with his head to the upper right corner of the sanctuary, where a stone angel had suddenly appeared from nowhere. Donna glanced up and over, noticing the angel's purposeful covering of its eyes. He had been right after all. It _had_ followed them here. Not that that wasn't a good thing, because she knew the Doctor could take care of it. But there were loads of people here, someone could end up with their energy stolen and their lives upended in another century. She skimmed the crowd, eyes resting on Mrs. Crawley and Matthew. She was the target. She had the most energy in her timeline, but where was it all coming from? Donna swiveled her head left and right, taking in the full congregation. She supposed it wasn't necessarily a detriment to have such a large crowd. There were eyes everywhere, and if some of the congregation were half as bored as Donna, they weren't going to be staring at the Vicar the whole time. He wasn't the kind of man you wanted to stare at for hours on end, like the Doc—

Before she could finish her thought, she saw another angel, this one outside in the garden. Its arm was pointing inside the church, the other held determinedly over its eyes. She sidled closer to the Doctor and whispered in his ear, "Look out the window to the right."

"I know," the Doctor whispered back, not releasing his gaze from the one in the top corner. "That one's been there for the past six minutes."

"How much longer is the service?"

As if in answer to her question, the Vicar raised his arms and said with a droll voice, "And now, please bow your heads and join me in prayer."

Donna and the Doctor froze. He looked up and she looked right, as every other head in the place shut their eyes and looked down.

"Oh heavenly Father…" the Vicar began.

The Doctor jabbed Donna and forced her up, making her lose eye contact with the angel outside the window. He dragged her behind one of the outer columns on the edge of the pews.

"Forgive us for our myriad sins…"

She looked back out the window and the angel was gone. She wanted to sock the Doctor one good, but he was too focused on the other angel above the Vicar. It had moved nearly three meters and was now hovering over the center of the church, perched on top of the central pillar like a gargoyle. Apparently, she and the Doctor had been blinking.

"And purge our thoughts, that we may only seek you…"

Where the hell was that other angel? Donna was getting worried. The Doctor was grabbing her hand and inching her to the front of the church along the outside of the left row of pews. They were almost to the front now, nearly level with the Crawley family. She launched into a silent pantomime, flailing her arms about to get the Doctor's attention, only to stop when she realized the Doctor had his gaze locked on the angel above the vicar.

"Create in us new hearts, that we may find…"

Gotta find it, gotta find it. Finally, she caught a glimpse of the second angel. Just as she feared, it had moved inside, at the very front corner on the far right side of the church. It was less than six meters from Isobel Crawley. She could see the angel, but just barely, as she peeked through the columns and over the bowed heads of the rest of the congregation. As soon as the Vicar said 'amen,' everyone would look up and she would lose sight of it completely. She lost it again as she moved behind another column. Four meters now. There was the chance that it would freeze, with everyone's heads up again, but it wasn't a chance Donna was willing to take. Unable to look at the Doctor to let him know what she was about to do, and unable to whisper without drawing unwanted attention to herself, she steeled her nerves and tiptoed as quickly and quietly as she could across the front of the church. She had just made it to the right side when the Vicar concluded his prayer.

"Amen."

"Amen," echoed the congregation, raising their heads.

Donna was standing at the far right side of the church, the Doctor on the far left. Though tucked away behind the outer columns, she could still feel a couple of stares burning the back of her head as the Vicar recited the benediction. She would love to move, to see if Mrs. Crawley saw the angel as well, but didn't dare risk letting it out of her sight to check. After a concluding hymn, which was achingly slow and unfortunately long, she heard the stirrings of the exiting congregation. Still unable to see the Doctor, she resigned herself to back away slowly, increasing her peripheral field of vision, if only by a few degrees. She continued backing up until she was jostled by a younger blonde woman, one of the last to leave from the back of the church. She still had no vision of the Doctor, though.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Donna said, making indirect eye contact with the young woman.

"It's no trouble," the woman returned, attempting to look at Donna. She could never quite catch her eye properly, as Donna was still focusing deliberately on the angel.

"Would you mind stepping aside a bit?" the woman asked.

Donna couldn't look back to see why she needed to. "This is about to sound very strange, but I really can't."

"I'm sorry?" the woman returned.

"I need to keep looking this way, at least until everyone gets out of the church." Donna took a step further back, wincing as she hit solid stone. To her left she could feel an open space, the corner that one turned to return to the vestibule, but this was as far back as she could move. She was parallel with the last pew, and was, apparently, blocking the way of someone.

"Here," she said. "I'll just step forward." She took several steps closer to the angel, clearing the path behind her.

"I'm sorry, miss," another voice said behind her. It was a man's voice this time. Irish. "But what are you looking at?"

"Oh nothing, just a bit of wall, haha," Donna said. Her eyes were starting to water; the strain from the staring as well as the hay particles lingering from the morning were causing some massive twitching. She supposed she looked bizarre.

"You don't look well, mam," the woman said.

"Oh, me, no, I'm peachy!" Donna said. "This might sound strange, but do you see a man across the sanctuary?" Donna asked. "Kinda tall, skinny as a beanpole, he's got on a brown greatcoat."

"I don't see him, miss," the man's voice said behind her.

"Well that's just great," Donna said, exasperated. "Alright, you two just run along now, and I'll be right out. Just have to go… get the… uhm…" Donna couldn't take it anymore. The couple had their eyes on her, and she had no idea where the Doctor had got off to. Probably went to take care of the other one all on his lonesome, the cocky alien. She couldn't help it. She blinked; only to come face to face with the statue. "Ah!" she said, surprised.

"What are you… Oh, that wasn't just there!" the other woman said.

"Okay," Donna answered again. "You two need to get out of here, _now_." She set her eyes back on the statue and tried to wriggle her way back the narrow side aisle.

"What's going on with that statue there? Isn't that the same one from the garden?" the man asked.

"Ugh…" Donna huffed. "What are your names, then?"

"My name is Mr. John Bates," the man replied, "and this is Anna Smith."

"Great. Fabulous. Well, John, Anna, splendid chatting with you, really, but unless you want to get attacked by a stone angel, you should get a move on."

"Excuse me?" Anna asked.

"No, seriously, I don't have time to explain, but this _is_ the statue you saw in the garden."

"But, that's… impossible," stammered John.

"Right, which makes it bad," Donna replied. "So, you two head on out, I'll deal with this."

"What are you going to do?" Anna asked.

"I'm not quite sure about that, but as long as I keep looking at it, we should be good."

"Well if that's all," John said sarcastically, throwing Anna a distinct look.

"I know this sounds mad," Donna said, feeling their silent conversation behind her. "But you just really need to leave. Cause once you get behind those columns, you'll be out of its line of vision, which means it can attack."

"So, it's what we don't see that's dangerous?" Anna asked.

"Exactly," Donna said.

"A bit childish, don't you think?" Anna said.

"Look," Donna said, frustration reaching its peak. She had been doing so good keeping her temper with these thick people. They just needed to _go_. "Really, if you don't believe me, there's no harm in leaving. And, if you do, then you should already be gone. Now, off with you." And she swatted at them both.

"Not without you," John said, grabbing her by the arm. "If that thing is dangerous, you shouldn't be near it. And, if it isn't, which is the more likely case, you need to go visit the hospital, see if Dr. Clarkson can help with your hallucinations."

"Oi! I'm not hallucinating," Donna protested. Oh no, he was pulling her around the column in the narrow walkway toward the vestibule. Once she rounded that corner, there would be no one to keep his or her eyes on the angel. The church had emptied, the Doctor was off only God knows where, and now these two were dragging her out of the sanctuary. The quantum lock was only as good as a pair of eyes, and hers were being forcibly removed. Before she could struggle further, they had her behind the column, her last bit of contact lost. She turned to get a full look at the pair, finally noticing the cane and limp the man sported. She stopped struggling.

"See, nothing's got you," Anna said. She walked up closer to Donna as the man released her arm. "What's your name?"

"Donna, Donna Noble."

"Well Miss Noble—"

"Donna's fine," she mumbled. "And again with the 'miss'. I must just have a neon light over m' head…"

"Right, well, Donna," Anna said. "How long have you been thinking these angels were after you?"

"Don't patronize me, lady," Donna said. She started off toward the entrance to the church, followed closely by the petite blonde and limping gentleman. "I don't mean to be rude, but you're really not giving me much choice. Don't you two have somewhere to be?" She turned a corner quickly, bypassing the last pew in the sanctuary. They were now in the vestibule, but still no sign of the Doctor.

"She is right, you know," John said. "You'll be expected back soon, to help with luncheon service."

"Yes, I suppose you're correct. But we can't very well leave her here—"

"Oi! I can still hear you!"

Anna sighed. She and John followed Donna out the front doors, only to be stopped short by Donna's outstretched arm.

"Careful," Donna warned. "They're back." Sure enough, on the front steps, two angels were kneeling, eyes covered, flanking the exit to the church. "Alright, you want me to leave, well, this is me leaving." She made her way down the path, angling her head awkwardly as she turned and started walking backwards. "And this is you two, following me. Come on!"

John and Anna slowly made their way down the steps, throwing distressed glances to each other and then at Donna. Donna didn't much notice, as her gaze was locked on both the angels within an arm's reach of the pair. On the last stone step, John's cane hit the gravel of the pathway. He stumbled slightly, causing Anna and Donna both to lose focus. When Donna looked up again, the angels were poised over the crouched pair, stone arms outstretched and fangs bared, as if to haul them bodily into another dimension.

"What just… I don't under—" Anna stammered.

"Just pick him up!" Donna called. She was only a few meters away, but didn't want to risk limiting her vision field by getting closer. "And try not to touch them!"

John and Anna ducked under the angels' arms, and briskly joined Donna near the end of the path.

"What's all that about?" John asked, panting somewhat.

"I told you," Donna said, continuing her backward retreat. This time, she was the one pulling the other two away. "Just keep your eyes on them. They can't move if you can see them."

"And what happens when we get too far away to see them?" Anna asked.

"That's when the running comes in," Donna said.

"Oh, dear."

"Not quite how I would've worded it, but same sentiment, yes," Donna said.

"But, why is this happening?" John asked, obviously bewildered. "Miss Noble, who exactly are you?"

"Just a friend of the Crawley's. Sorting out some… masonry… problems."

"You don't mean, Mr. Matthew Crawley?" Anna asked, shocked.

"No, not the blonde fellow. I'm closer with his mum."

"Oh!" Anna said in recognition. "You're that peculiar woman who's that Doctor's secretary."

"I am NOT his secretary," Donna said adamantly.

"But when he introduced you—"

"Oh, _I'm the Doctor, and this is my secretary. She does all the menial bits, I'm the one in charge. I'm the one who fixes the problem. _Yeah well, you don't see him around now, do you?"

"Actually—"

"He's probably run off, distracted by some jelly-babies or whatnot. _Oh, look at me, I've got a banana, lovely fruit bananas, did you know they're loaded with potassium? Not as much as a red pepper, but still great for a party_. Guess what Time Boy, no one cares!"  
"Weeeell, I wouldn't say no one."

"'Bout time you showed up!" Donna said.

The Doctor appeared behind the group, glasses on but askew, one trainer untied and a bit worse for wear. "Sorry, I lost it somewhere between the basement and the secret tunnels running underneath the church. Might have to check those out later. So, where are we? We've got the angels, yes? Oh, _both_ of them! Brilliant! And the backing away… good. Now, we're on with the running?"

"We're at a bit of a loss for that, now," Donna said, inclining her head to John's limp.

"Oh, that's not stopped us before," the Doctor said. "Remember that chase on Corkinkatalion? That bloke only had one leg! I'm the Doctor by the way, and you are?  
"John Bates."

"Anna Smith."

"Ahh, Smith, good name that. Used that one a lot. General. Don't have a brother named John do you?"

"Doctor, angels," Donna chided.

"Right, sorry. Angels, civilians. Well, what's good about quantum-locked stone angels with the potential power to transport humans into past years unknown?"

Donna rolled her eyes. "I don't know, but I'm sure you're about to tell us!"

"This," he said, motioning to his eyes, "sight, is always our weapon. Until it gets dark, or until we are blinded or start with the blinking, we have the advantage. We'll just keep backing up as far as we can."

As they retreated down the nearest pathway, the bizarre foursome held their eyes on the angels.

"I still don't understand why we're evading these statues," John ventured.

"And it's better that you don't," the Doctor replied. "Do you know where Mrs. Crawley is at the moment? Does she usually go back to Crawley house after service?"

"She doesn't frequently visit the estate on Sundays," Anna said. "However, she's been rather… adamant about staying at Downton with Matthew lately. I only assumed it was due to his impending departure. Or that she was hoping for a reconciliation between Matthew and Lady Mary…"

"Issues with a Lady?" Donna asked.

"Yes. Mr. Crawley proposed to Lady Mary, the Earl's eldest daughter," Anna explained.

"Liberal prime minister's son marrying into the landed gentry? She must be so proud," Donna said.

"Yes well, she's been staying at the house for the past few days, since your arrival in fact. She said they've been having some construction or something at Crawley house. She was very vague on the subject." Anna, John, Donna and the Doctor finally reached a street corner in the village nearly fifty meters away from the churchyard.

"She's been keeping the people with the most residual energy in sight," the Doctor said.

"Well isn't that a good thing?" Donna asked. "At least she knows what she's up against. What to look for."

"Yes and no. The longer she stays with them, the more energy she exudes. She's been visiting that house over the last two years, and it's locked onto her location, concentrating all of her energy to that one place. And all that stone."

"It's the perfect place to hide, what with all those statues in the garden, not to mention that little chapel across the grounds," Donna said.

"Wait, is Downton in some sort of danger?" John asked.

"Not… Downton, necessarily. Just, maybe Mrs. Crawley, and the heir, and everyone they've been around for the past few days," the Doctor said. "Now, you two," he said, directing his attention to John and Anna. "I need you to keep looking at the angels, but I want you to listen to me very carefully."

"I can barely see them anymore," Anna said.

"That's alright. As long as you can make them out, even just a silhouette, you're safe."

Anna and John looked pale. Anna's eyes were darting back and forth from the Doctor to John to the angels down the lane. The edges of her lips turned down and tears stung the corners of her eyes. "But I just don't understand," she whispered.

"It's not your fault. And honestly, really," Donna said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's better if you don't. Just know that we're here to help. If you see these angels anywhere near Downton, especially near Matthew or Mrs. Crawley, you need to come and find us straight away. But for now, you need to go. Tell Mrs. Crawley, if you're able, that there are two confirmed statues. She'll understand. Now, buck up, and off you go." She gently nudged Anna down the lane.

"But what about you two?" John asked, voice strained as he stared back down the road toward the angels. "What authority have you to fix something like this?"

"I can't give you any credentials, if that's what you're looking for," the Doctor replied. "Just trust me. And go on," the Doctor dropped his voice. "Get her back to the estate. She doesn't seem to be doing too well," indicating Anna.

"Fine then," John said. "Come along, Anna. We're late already for luncheon. We'll work out a way for you to speak to Mrs. Crawley. Good luck, Doctor," he said, extending his hand.

"Thank you sir," replied the Doctor, shaking it firmly.

John and Anna turned the corner, making their way as quickly as John's leg could manage.

_**Reviews are encouraging; let me know if I'm making any mistakes!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**I seem to go long/short/long on the chapters, but I never really know how to get the pacing down. I just imagine them as scenes in my head, long or short. Sometimes they cut in between each other, but that's far too hard to put to paper. I don't own these characters. I just like to make them do what I want sometimes. Enjoy :)**_

"Now, back to the problem at hand," the Doctor said.

"We're going to have to go into that huge house," Donna said. "All those rooms, all that land, it'll take _ages_ to check that place for these things, especially if there's more to come."

"They're there for the energy. If we can localize Isobel's movements they'll come to her."

"You mean use her as bait?"

"Have you a better idea?"

"Not yet," Donna said indignantly. "But once we have them, what do we do? Didn't you set them to look at each other last time?"

"Yes, but apparently that didn't hold," the Doctor said, making his way back to the churchyard. "I don't feel that anything could hold these things permanently. And last time, there were four of them. So we're still missing two. I just hope they haven't beaten us to the punch and gone out to the estate already." He sighed, frustrated. "Donna, what is that?"

"A shovel, what's it look like?"

"I can see it's a shovel, what do you plan on doing with it?"

"I figured we could knock their arms off. Go all Venus de Milo on 'em!"

"You can't disfigure them!"

"Why not?" she said, punctuating the 't'. "With no arms, they can't very well cover their eyes. Wouldn't that put them in a permanent lock?"

"They can just turn their heads. What are you gonna do next? Decapitate them?"

"If it worked for the French—"

"Look, Marie Antoinette had some problems. Our counseling sessions weren't going very well at the time."

"You were her therapist?"

"Something like that. I don't like to talk about it."

The two finally reached the angels, who hadn't moved since the debacle with the two servants from Downton. The daylight was still good, so they sat on a low stonewall, staring at the statues.

"Seriously, though," Donna said, returning to weightier topics. "What are we going to do? I don't like this waiting for the other two to show up. And then once they're here, how do we stop them? We can't very well have people take shifts watching them."

"That's not a bad idea."

She gave him a pointed look.

"Well, it's not a _good_ idea either. But ideas develop, and from those tepid inklings spring the powers of developed consideration. For man's intention is often misconstrued when he sits down to just an idea. An idea is a powerful thing, more powerful than wars, or weapons, more than time itself. For ideas sustain you humans, keep you moving forward into unknown territory."

"You're waxing poetic again."

"Right, sorry," he said, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Come on Earth Girl, inspire me."

"Why is it all of a sudden _my_ responsibility to inspire you?" shrugging him off. "You just need to sit down and think. Normally you make all your decisions spur of the moment, which is all well and good, cause you're brilliant and all, but now you can think it out. Make some plans. You know that two more angels will be coming. You know where they're going to be looking for the energy source, and you know who they're after. I know this must feel like homework for you, but use these few hours of _not_ running around as if our lives depended on it and _think_ about the problem."

His grin perked up, and she glimpsed him quickly. "Why are you grinning, sunshine?"

"You really think I'm brilliant?"

"Out of that whole spiel, all you got was the complement? Just like a man."

"I suppose thinking it out wouldn't be so bad," he said. "Unless something marvelous hits me out of the blue."

"Unless something hits you… Why not reach way back into that ginormous brain of yours and start postulating some theories, eh? _Oi, look at me, I'm a big fancy Time Lord with knowledge of the whole of universes, I'm amazing_!"

"I don't sound like that," he pouted.

"_I've got a big shiny blue box that I won't let anyone else drive because I've got an unnatural attachment to it_ _and codependency issues._"

"You know we're telepathically linked!"

"_And speaking of bonding with objects, I've got a fancy screwdriver that I SLEEP with at night!"_

"This is ridiculous. It's my only weapon."

"_AND I use weird catchphrases to attract attention! Allons-y everyone. Look what I'm doing! Look at me! Look at me!"_

"Look at me…"

"Yeah, _Look at me_!"

"No, Donna, look at me! Look at me; that's it! That's it!" he hopped off the stonewall and grabbed Donna by the shoulders. "_Look_ at me Donna, look at me!"

"What am I looking for?" Donna said, distracted.

"Don't actually look," the Doctor said. "I mean, 'look at me.' That's it! That's the key to capturing them. What with your talk about humans taking shifts watching them, it's the solution, Donna! Forget the shifts. What about a _permanent_ watch?"

"That sounds great, but you can't have one person watching them at all times."

"No, not a person, no! People blink, and squint and close their eyes when they sneeze, and when they yawn, too, which looks a bit like they're preparing to devour the air—"

"Doctor."

"Right. BUT, if I can get a permanent guard, a look out system if you will, we can stabilize them and keep them locked. It's even better, because I'm sure I can scrounge up the materials…" he let go of her shoulders and started pacing back and forth, mumbling something about solar panels and routing wire.

"Doctor," Donna began sheepishly. "When you kept saying 'look at me' earlier, you know, before the confusing explainy bit, did you really want me to look at you?

"What? No, don't look at me. Look at the—" he paused. "Donna, if I'm looking at you, and you're looking at me…"

"No one's looking at the angels." She peered around the Doctor carefully. The statues had vanished.

* * *

"Where have you been?" Mr. Carson fumed. Anna and John stood quietly in the doorway to the butler's pantry, still dressed in their Sunday clothes and over an hour late for their afternoon duties. Downton's operations were planned down to the second, and even a Sunday afternoon was no time for dawdling according to Mr. Carson's schedule.

"I'm very sorry sir, it was all my fault," John said.

"Explain."

"I was exiting the church after speaking with Mrs. Crawley's acquaintances. They inquired as to whether she was staying at the estate instead of Crawley house. I was trying to be hospitable, so I spoke with them. After a brief conversation, Anna tripped and fell. Mrs. Crawley's friend, Dr. Smith, he wouldn't let us leave until he had given her a brief examination. I should have returned immediately to let you know what was happening."

Mr. Carson's eyebrows nearly reached his receding hairline by the time Bates finished his story, but he could find no fault with the explanation, as they both looked somewhat disheveled. Thinking back, he had seen them speaking with that strange Doctor's secretary near the end of the service.

"And leave the poor girl by herself with strangers, Mr. Bates? I should hope not."

"If you please sir, I can still catch up with my work if I run along," Anna offered. She was still a bit peaked from her earlier experience, enough for Carson to question her wellbeing.

"Are you sure the fall didn't harm you, or give you a fright? We don't want to exacerbate the condition and have you out longer than need be. You've already missed half of your chores, I won't lose you again for another day's work if you don't take care of yourself."

"No sir, I'm fine. I think I'm just more breathless from our walk than anything. We really were trying to hurry back. Just let me get on with my chores, sir."

"Very well. But I'll not have Mrs. Hughes in here reprimanding me for not taking proper care of you. Have a rest before you go about it," he said dismissively. "And that wasn't a suggestion, Anna. Sit a while."

John and Anna retreated into the servant's corridor, which was a flurry of activity. Neither could say much concerning their encounter with the statues.

"Go on into the kitchen then," John said. "I've got to get to work."

"Perhaps we can talk later about those interesting stone works in the churchyard," Anna replied guardedly. She gave an acknowledging grin to William as he passed by.

"Good to see you made it back," William said.

"Slackers," Thomas commented. "Dally about the whole afternoon while the rest of us break our backs."

"You'll be breaking a lot more than that once you're with the medical corps," John said.

"I bet you'd know all about that," Thomas replied, escaping upstairs before John could respond.

"I suppose it's possible to hate someone on principle, but that young man gives me another reason every day to dislike him," John said. He noticed Anna staring off. "We can talk later tonight. If you see Mrs. Crawley today," he lowered his voice, "relay that message. I can't help but feel something peculiar is happening. I doubt anything will come of what that man said, but Mrs. Crawley seems to trust him."

"You don't believe," Anna started. "You don't really think those statues could mo—"

"Anna! There you are girl! I heard about your accident, but that's no reason for loitering in the hallway."

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes. I'm coming." She parted silently, leaving John with a veiled look on her face and an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach.

_**Reviews appreciated!**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Two chapters in one day, mainly because I don't like the super short ones. If you've stuck with this so far, reviewed or alerted, I really appreciate it. I hope it's entertaining you guys. As previously mentioned I own none of these characters, though I covet their clothes, their tools, and their spaceships. Enjoy :)**_

"Can you elaborate further on the relationship with those two peculiar people of your acquaintance that attended Sunday service this morning?" Lady Violet asked bluntly. No matter how awkward the question, the dinner at Downton had been blatantly strained up until that point. Matthew and Mary were making a point of not speaking to each other, and no one much felt like discussing further war involvement. Leave it to Violet to turn the attention outward, to the idiosyncrasies of strangers and not the household itself.

"Dr. Smith is a man I worked closely with years ago," Isobel replied, slicing an asparagus open. "He is very gifted, and rather brilliant."

"He seems a bit off to me," Violet returned. "Is he one of those progressives?"

"I suppose you could call him that. He's truly clever, so much so it… uhm, it hinders his social interactions."

"And what about that woman who was with him?" Sybil asked. "She seemed very talkative, very…" she regarded her father carefully. "…modern."

Isobel couldn't help but let out a small laugh. She dabbed the edges of her lips with her napkin to cover her slip. "That's one way of describing her, yes. She's introduced as his secretary, but I believe she holds more responsibility in the partnership. More of an assistantship."

"That's absurd. I know your inclinations for women's rights are well in line with those of my youngest," Robert said, looking pointedly at Sybil, "… but the Medical Corps have strict rules about women holding certain positions. She must be a nurse or something else. They can't have her working so closely with the administration."

"Things are changing, Papa," Sybil said. "As you know, Gwen was just awarded that place with the electric-telephone company, what with the industry growing so quickly."

"Electricity. I still don't like it," Lady Violet said. "Mark me, we'll have some sort of gaseous explosion or, toxic fumes may very well take us all in our sleep."

"Mama, please don't sound so morbid," Robert said. "That's being entirely unfair."

"So you embrace the change of technology, but not the change of society?" Sybil countered.

"That's quite enough of that," Robert said, returning his attention to his plate. He leaned nearer to Cora. "Did we fail miserably when teaching the children not to talk politics at table?"

"Only with Sybil, dear," Cora returned, smiling good-naturedly at her husband.

The discussions sparked, and the family of eight broke into smaller conversations as William and Thomas brought in the next course. Mr. Carson began his round of the table, offering wine to the seated family.

"Mother," Matthew said, dropping his voice and leaning in closer to her. "When did you work with this man? What year exactly?"

Isobel braced herself. She hadn't spent much time figuring out specifics, given that her attention was focused solely on much of the stonework at Downton. Which, she now realized, was relatively abundant.

"Oh, I don't remember, exactly. The years after 1900 all run together for an old lady."

Matthew waited.

"We were working together at Downing Str— ehm, hospital, in London. Probably doesn't exist anymore. He looked different then. Younger," she said, catching herself. "There were some aliens… from out of the country. I suppose you could say we took care of them."

"Isn't that what nurses and doctors do?"

"Yes," Isobel said. "Yes it is."

"You've never mentioned him before, nor working in London. Had I even been born yet? He seems so very strange, and that woman, I thought I saw her dash across the pulpit this morning at service!"

"When did that happen?" Isobel asked disbelievingly, keeping her voice down. "I saw nothing of the sort."

"It doesn't matter now," Matthew said. "I only worry for you. You seem to… change, every time he comes up in conversation." Matthew straightened as Carson offered him some wine.

"Oh Carson," Isobel said, in an attempt to change the subject. "Is Anna feeling better? I found her preparing my room this afternoon later than usual and she seemed rather flustered. Has she been unwell?"

"Anna assures me she is fine, Mrs. Crawley," Carson said. "She had a small incident this morning at church that delayed her, but Mr. Bates saw her home."

"Well, if she needs any looking after, please send her my way."

"Yes mam', but she explained that that fellow Dr. Smith helped her, and she feels much better."

"Did she elaborate on the incident further?"

"No mam."

"Well," Isobel said, noticing Matthew's clinched jaw. "I'm glad she's alright."

Carson moved further down the table.

"It's that man again," Matthew said contemptuously. "And now Anna's off and been nearly injured. Mother, who is he? Why are you protecting him? I only ask for your sake."

"Oh son, I trust that man with my life."

Matthew gave her a worrisome look, and then, chanced a glance at Mary. "Mother, my place in this family becomes more precarious daily. With the war coming, I feel as though every moment is precious, and I had hoped that I could leave you with as few burdens as possible." He sighed as the women at the table rose to go through. "I've always known where I stand in your regard, and I want you to be able to trust me with anything." He grabbed her hand as she stood. "Anything in the past, anything at all."

"I do, I do trust you, Matthew." She let his grip slip from her hands as she joined Cora, Lady Violet and the girls as they exited the dining room.

"Cousin Robert," Matthew said.

"Yes?" he replied, lighting a cigar.

"Have you had any word from London concerning the Smith fellow?"

"Not yet Matthew, you know post doesn't run on Sundays." The Earl puffed on his cigar, the smoke curling in the dimming lamp light. "You seem troubled."

"There's something about him. The other day in the library, he seemed exceedingly peculiar. And this morning, in the churchyard, there's just something rather off-putting about the gentleman. Not to mention his age in regards to my mother."

"You've noticed that too, have you," Robert replied. "I thought it was only fancy overtaking me."

"I feel as though…" Matthew left the statement unfinished.

"Come now, say what you mean."

"Is my mother lying to me about something? Where could she have met this chap and why must she be so guarded with her explanations? As you know, I've been somewhat distressed lately," Matthew said. "Mary seems as aloof as ever."

"I believe she's trying to spare your feelings," Robert said.

"Which she?"

"Why, both my boy. Women have a way of letting the past affect them more than a man. They carry around events from years gone, feeling as if they happened only hours ago. I think it makes them wiser." Robert took a final drag, and rose to clap Matthew soundly on the shoulder. "In any case, we'll have word of the man's credentials tomorrow. It's probably nothing more than an old friendship forged by shared experiences, experiences she is hesitant to reveal to her only son."

"Her only son…"

"What was that?" Robert asked.

"Nothing," Matthew said. "Nothing at all." He hit his legs with his hands and pushed up from the table. "Shall we be off then?"

And the two gentlemen went through to join the ladies in the parlor.

* * *

After yet another uncomfortable dinner at the Downton table, Mrs. Isobel Crawley retired to her designated room for the night. She considered, only briefly, sitting Matthew down and explaining the whole mess. But knowing the war would be the biggest distraction, she decided against it. She didn't like leaving the family, but everyone else had already been to bed. She had followed Matthew to his room, satisfied that the angels had not yet penetrated Downton's interior. She sighed as she turned the handle to her door, throwing a final glance down both hallways as she surveyed the stone columns. She was startled to find Anna in her room, staring out the window.

"Anna, I've told Cora repeatedly I don't need a ladies' maid to help with preparing for bed."

"Begging your pardon, Mrs. Crawley, but I'm not here for that." She squared her shoulders and shook the bewildered look from her face. "I've come to relay a message from the Doctor, mam."

Isobel's face fell. "Oh you poor thing," she said, crossing toward Anna. "He got to you didn't he? Did he whip out that blue screwdriver? Lop off his hand again? Tell you I was the former prime minister?" She sat Anna down on the end of the bed.

If it was possible, Anna looked even more confused than she had that afternoon. She searched Isobel's face for any sign of teasing, only to continue when she found, unfortunately, that the other woman was completely serious.

"No… none of, that. Uhm, he said… Well, he said to tell you there have been two confirmed angel sightings."

"Hmm… and last time there were four. We still have two more to locate," she rose from the bed and began pacing, her long skirts swishing clumsily as she fell into stride. "I've not left the estate except for church, which means they'll be here tomorrow, or could be here tonight, presently." She stopped pacing. "Oh, Anna," she said, coming back to the befuddled woman. "What happened this afternoon?"

Anna stared at Isobel as if seeing her for the first time. She told Isobel about her encounter with the Doctor and Donna, and how the angels had fallen upon her and Mr. Bates after their exit.

"And now you're saying that there are more of these… things? Two more statues that can… move?" Anna asked. Her color had finally come back, and she was asking less out of fear and more out of a determined need for understanding. "Mrs. Crawley, what are they? And who is that man?" She paused, then added a final question. "Just who are _you_ exactly?"

"That's a good question my dear," Isobel answered. "It's not something that I can answer directly. It would take far too much time and would probably alter your opinion of me entirely."

"I'm afraid we're too late for that, mam'."

"I suppose we are. But where to begin," Isobel said wistfully. She walked back across the room, pulling the stool from her changing table across from Anna. Then she strode to the head of her bed and reached under her pillow. "Do you have a while?" she asked.

"I've finished with all my nightly rounds. I'll be off to bed once we're through speaking," Anna said.

"Good," Isobel said, pulling out half a bottle of whiskey. Anna watched as two glasses materialized in her hands and Isobel poured them each a serving. "Trust me, you're gonna need it." She threw hers back in a gulp, waiting until Anna did the same. "I suppose it all started at Downing Street, in the year 2005…"

* * *

"I swear if we get arrested again, I'm going to kill you." Donna crouched behind the Doctor in the kitchen yard. A sliver of light peaked from a lamp-lit window, illuminating the empty yard and deserted kitchen. There were no angels to be seen. After leaving the church the twosome sprinted back to the TARDIS, the Doctor listing materials the entire way.

"That last time was not my fault! How was I to know they had a law against carrying concealed fruit?"

Donna rolled her eyes, knowing full well the Doctor couldn't see her. They had been sitting behind some old crates for nearly two hours, and she was starting to catch a cramp in her calf. She kept hearing construction noises from over the walled gardens, but the Doctor said their main focus should be finding Isobel. Donna thought it was strange, first of all having construction at night, secondly that the Doctor didn't want to investigate. But they had their hands full for the past few hours, avoiding the night owls of the kitchen staff. An older woman and young man taking a break for a fag nearly caught them. Donna, in what she considered a stroke of sheer brilliance, threw a rock across the way, distracting the pair. So what if she broke one tiny little window. It was minor property destruction to save a life, she reminded herself. She already had poor enough luck traveling with the Doctor.

They emerged from behind the crates, preparing to enter the large house and start scouting rooms for Isobel Crawley. They needed her help to get across the grounds, and they had to explain the plan to her. And get a few okay's concerning possible explosions that could happen. All in a day's work.

As they tiptoed through the yard, the Doctor suddenly pulled Donna back against the wall. Shadows flickered across the lamplight, and two bodies appeared from the staff entrance.

"You're not making sense, Anna."

"I swear to you, it's all true. The statues, they're here for her. For her… energy, or something. We're all in danger! We have to get out of here right now!"

"Anna, you're not yourself," John said, easing her onto one of the discarded crates. "You've just had a hard day." He sniffed the air and tilted her face to him, her eyes shining. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but have you been drinking?"

"It was Mrs. Crawley," Anna said, putting her face in her hands. She looked like a weeping angel herself. "You should have been there. She was as composed as I've ever seen her, talking about this other life, as if _this_ weren't… well, reality!"

"Poor love," Donna whispered. "We should really go help her out."

"And maybe ask for some directions," the Doctor said, popping out from the shadows. "John, Anna, lovely to see you again!" The Doctor sauntered over to the distressed pair. "Made it back alright, then? Great, good on you. And I heard you've spoken with Mrs. Crawley? That's fantas—"

John cut off the Doctor's sentence as he forced him against the outer wall, cane falling in the dirt with a thud.

"I don't care who or… what you are," John said. "But you need to leave this place. You show up here, and suddenly there's this statue demon, a new war on, Mrs. Crawley's practically lost her mind, and look what you've done to Anna!"

"Now now, John, let's just settle," Donna said, playing referee. "It's not his fault. These things, they just happen. No one's been hurt yet, right? Right? And we've got a plan to fix it all. We just need to get to Mrs. Crawley."

"Is that so?" John asked, still manhandling the Doctor.

The Doctor gave a squeaking affirmation, nodding as best he could against the wall.

"Fine," John said, releasing his hold. "We'll take you to Mrs. Crawley, but after tonight you need to leave. Word of your credentials will arrive with the morning post. Or, should I say, _lack_ of credentials. We've given good years to this family and will not see the likes of you bring about its destruction."

"I'd never," the Doctor said.

"Come on sweet," Donna said, helping Anna up off the crate. Anna pitched forward slightly, Donna catching her against her front. The two women paused, Anna looking strangely at Donna.

"Is that your—"

"Oh, come on with you," Donna said. "Best get you in so we can get out. There's a girl."

Not appreciating the patronizing tone, Anna and John led the way through the servant's quarters and up the back stairs to Isobel's room. They halted outside her doorway, turning back to face the Doctor and Donna.

"This is Mrs. Crawley's room, sir," John whispered. "I don't know what you need her for, but if half of what Anna's told me is true, I feel as though you can handle the situation. We do not want to be involved, and we will not be vouching for you should you be found out. I trust you will handle our involvement with discretion."

"Of course. Anna? John? Never heard of them," the Doctor added lightly.

"Yes, well, goodnight Doctor, Miss." John turned down the hallway, waiting for Anna.

"You should really have that examined," Anna whispered to Donna. "By a _proper_ Doctor." She turned and followed John, and within seconds the darkness of the hallway swallowed the pair.

"What was all that about?" the Doctor asked.

"All what?"

"You know what."

"Actually, I have no idea. She wouldn't stop staring at me after we bumped into each other. Poor girl just found out about alien existence. She's a bit rattled, reasonably so." Donna turned the knob. "Shall we get on with it?"

The Doctor gestured grandly, and in they went to Isobel's room.

_**Reviews make me happy. So does *spoilers* Mr. Bates getting out of prison in the next season! Please Julian Fellowes, let him out!**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Another day, another longer chapter! How's the Doctor gonna fix our little angel quandary? Hmmm... Well, now that I've finished the last chapter, I'll probably have the whole of it uploaded in a day or two. Thanks for everyone who has read so far. Hope you're liking this interesting juxtaposition of characters/worlds as much as I am! Enjoy :)**_

A scant once-over of the house found the threesome at a quarter til one in the morning. The house itself was so grand; Donna couldn't stop herself from marveling at the antiques, the books, the furniture in every room. Isobel led them by each of the family's rooms, doing her best to manage by candlelight. The construction noises from earlier continued, but Isobel said nothing of it. Donna decided it was an early 20th century thing, working at night. They peered behind paintings, looked for secret passages and raided the kitchen. Still, no angels. No running. No fun.

"To tell the truth," Isobel said, rounding a corner, "I'm surprised we haven't been found out yet. So many people stay here, you know. And the servants will be up in a few hours."

They had already checked the servants' corridors, the cellar, the attic, several vacant rooms in two unused wings of the house and no stone angels. They had even gone outside and walked around the entire exterior, using the Doctor's electric torch to scan the walls for any out-of-place stone finishings. The chapel wasn't far off, so they made their way there next, even though Isobel swore she hadn't set foot in the place for the past several months.

"We had a small family service during Christmas," Isobel said, leading the two down a back path. "But I don't think the family proper has held service on the estate since Easter."

The darkness was more prominent, Donna noticed, with the significant lack of ambient light from the cities of the future. The slice of crescent moon shone from behind the clouds, illuminating the surroundings just enough for Donna to worry. They had only the torch to guide them, the candle having blown out somewhere between the cellar steps and the servants' hall. The Doctor's one set of night-vision goggles was damaged beyond repair, having been cracked by a Jadoon during one of their previous escapades on Gattiswark. Or was it Felspoon?

"It doesn't much matter," the Doctor said, skittering down a sloping swath of the trail. "They're much smarter than we give them credit for. They understand the quantum lock and will use it to their advantage. Stone is patient. It weathers, but it takes ages. Stonehenge, the Pyramids, Newgrange, they're all ancient, and, completely alien by the way; and that's just the stone structures on Earth. They'll find a place to hide. Try and wait us out. And the best place to hide is in plain sight. Where would you expect stone structures to take cover?"

"In a museum?" Donna offered.

"Maybe if you're a carving of a Roman god, which, I am, but I was thinking more of a church yard," the Doctor said. "This chapel's not even a kilometer from the estate. Point-eight-seven-three kilometers to be exact. Much closer than the village church. And like you said, you haven't been here for months, and neither would the family. Wouldn't you be less likely to notice a change in the aesthetic of an area you visited infrequently than a change in the stone works you see weekly at the church in the village? Course you wouldn't. You'd just assume it was moved there in the time you'd been gone. In the three, four, six months of your absence."

The Doctor shined the torch on the front doors as they approached the chapel. It was small, rustic, with just enough room for the family and staff to hold a service if needed. Though why they couldn't just use the village church Donna would never know. Being rich enough to afford your own church irked her inner temp, knowing she'd never make that kind of money. Even after seeing the bubble fields of Krakajimp and the pudding sea on Taubion, she coveted the privilege of others, more for her family than for herself. Blame it on the human in her.

"Ready?" Isobel said, hand on the wrought-iron door handle.

"As we'll ever be," the Doctor said.

She swung both doors open unceremoniously to reveal the small interior, which was completely empty. Some of the pews were even missing.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," Donna said.

"I told you," Isobel said, stepping inside slowly. The Doctor, Donna and Isobel dispersed, heading to separate ends of the nave. "The family's not used this chapel in months!"

"What's that, then?" the Doctor asked.

He pointed to a small candle in the corner, smoking steadily as it consumed what was left of the wick. It was on a rack of other memorial candles placed in votives, all having been burned out.

"These look fresh," the Doctor said. "No dust. And we know someone came by here today."

"What's this?" Isobel said, holding up a small card. There was a picture of an old man holding a lily and a hammer.

"St. Joseph," Donna said.

"Saint? Like, Catholic?" Isobel asked.

"The patron saint of carpenters and craftsman, immigrants and laborers, fathers and unborn children." Donna couldn't explain how she knew; she just did. The residual Time Lord knowledge was kicking into overdrive.

Isobel sighed. "Oh Cora…"

"What's wrong?" the Doctor asked.

"The wife of the Earl, Lady Grantham. She was an American, came over years ago, made of new money. Might have guessed she was a Catholic."

"Did she light the candle?" Donna asked.

"She miscarried recently."

Neither much knew what to say in response, so they continued to search the small church in silence. Peering out of windows, behind the few pillars, looking down from the alter, none of them could find traces of the angels. The Doctor did another scan with the sonic, but no readings of anything abnormal, let alone alien, registered.

"Come on then, we need to get to the greenhouse," the Doctor said. "Can't be right every time, can I?"

As they exited the building, Donna caught sight of a figure to her far right, near the edge of a heavily wooded area. She stared and stared, not wanting to let it out of her sight for fear she would release the quantum lock. The more she stared the less the blob looked like an angel. Before she could ask the Doctor, the blob assumed the form of an overgrown bush. Losing sight of the shape in the shadows, Donna followed Isobel and the Doctor back up the path. Grabbing the torch from him, she shined the light over the spot in the darkness.

"Did you see anything?" the Doctor asked.

The blob morphed when the light hit it, revealing a sad-looking stump with moss covering it from root to tip.

"No," Donna said. "Suppose I'm just paranoid."

They turned back up the path, the night wearing on despite their fruitless search. Isobel led them across the grounds, passing gardens and mown lawns, beautiful expanses of grass and a gravel path leading up to the stables. Rounding the walled garden behind the house, the threesome approached a small greenhouse, cutting-edge for 1914 despite its impractical location between two large trees.

"Why is the TARDIS here? And why is it shimmering?" Donna asked, surprised to find the big blue box standing outside the entrance to the greenhouse. It would be there, and then suddenly melt away, as if the ship were only thinking about landing.

"Hmm," the Doctor said. "Not sure. We had her parked a ways down the lane didn't we?"

"You don't think they could have moved her, do you?"

"Nah, they couldn't have gotten inside." He moved closer to the greenhouse and opened the door, foggy from the humidity. "Oh, that's it," he said, shutting the door abruptly. "It's three eleven a.m.," he said, mumbling to himself. "Alright then," he said to no one in particular. "But I hate breaking my own rules." He turned to Donna and Isobel. "Give me, eh, five or ten minutes. If I haven't shown up, exit plan R." He dashed off into the darkness, trainers crunching the gravel below him.

"I hate exit plan R," Donna said.

"What's exit plain R?" Isobel asked.

"It involves TARDIS deconstruction, a rewiring of the isomorphic connection, and this unfortunate bit with a camel," Donna said calmly. They waited patiently as the minutes ticked by.

"Trousers," Isobel said.

"What's that?"

"I miss trousers the most."

Donna gave an obliging nod. "We were on this planet once, I forget the name," she said, leaning back against the outer greenhouse wall. "There was a dress code where we had to wear wetsuits at all times in public." She grinned fondly at the memory. "Worst part was, the country we were in was completely land-locked."

They returned to silence as Donna watched the TARDIS. It flickered in and out of her vision again, giving Donna a hint to the Doctor's actions.

"I'm sorry, you know."

"About what?" Isobel asked.

"It can't have been easy for you, uprooted from your time like that. I mean, you were the Prime Minister for heaven's sake! And to come back to now of all times, with the skirts and the restrictions, and the… limitations." She paused, looking up at the stars. "I voted for you, you know."

"You're just saying that."

"Honest I did."

"I appreciate it. Don't suppose it matters much now though."

"Hey, don't talk like that. He's gonna fix all this, you'll see. He always does."

"I'm not worried about him, or you. I'm not worried about me, either," Isobel said. "I worry about my son. About his life. I've seen death plenty of times, Miss Noble. I've been face to face with the Sycorax emperor and a battalion of Daleks. I've singlehandedly destroyed an entire race, and I launched a missile into the heart of London. I don't fear death," she said, face stoic. "I fear for my son, for his life, for his sanity." She joined Donna beside the greenhouse, looking out into the sky. "I helped him prepare for his exams when he was studying law. He should have known then. Especially when I started referencing statutes that hadn't even been written. I told him about electricity and motorcars when he was a boy. I spoke to him about planes and telephones, things I knew he would get to experience. Needless to say, he was a bit of a dreamer."

"I'm sure he's lovely."

"He is. I almost wish… well, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing for the angels to take him."

Donna gaped at her in the moonlight. "How can you say that? After how hard it's been for you? And you, you know so much more than him. He'd be… the adjustment would…" she stopped, lost for words.

"It would be hard, but not as hard as what's to come. In a few weeks, if we get through this rough patch here, he'll be off to France, or Belgium or Poland, fighting for his life in the first great technological war of the age." Tears touched the corners of her eyes. "At least in the past, he would have a chance."

"You can't know that, though," Donna argued. "Out of everywhere I've been, every _when_ I've been, the one thing I know is, there's always a fight. Always a struggle. Sometimes for peace, sometimes for conquest, sometimes for no reason at all. If you let the angels take him, what's to stop them from striking again? They'd be destroying families in countless centuries, targeting mothers like yourself, ending timelines prematurely. If you're having reservations about his life, then tell him. Tell him who you are. He should know what his mother has done."

"His mother, yes. His mother, his _real_ mother, she was a hero."

"I'm looking at his real mother," Donna said. "And she _is_ a hero." They sat in silence for a while longer, watching as the shadow of the TARDIS fully materialized in front of them. "It's always better to know the full story. If given the option between knowing the truth and living a lie, go with the truth. No matter how painful."

The women stood as the TARDIS door swung open, revealing a rattled Doctor and a pigsty of a console room.

"Miss me ladies?" he said.

* * *

"Where have you been?" Donna asked, peering around the Doctor's form into the console room of the TARDIS. There were wires strewn about, and layers upon layers of tools, sheet metal and what looked like sand scattered all over the metal grating. "I am NOT cleaning that up," she said.

"No need, just a bit of a project," the Doctor said.

"What have you been doing?" Isobel asked. "You left only minutes ago."

The Doctor exited the ship, and ran up to the side of the greenhouse. "See for yourselves," he said, boyish grin cracking as he swung the main door open.

Donna and Isobel stepped inside to find a curiously less-than-verdant greenhouse. It looked futuristic almost, with glass panes lining the roof, and mirrors upon mirrors covering the walls. There were even mirrors on the floor. A cascade of Donnas, Isobels, and Doctors walked about the small room, devoid of plant-life.

"Did you do all this?" Isobel asked.

"Yep-puh," the Doctor said, bouncing back and forth on his toes.

"There's no plants," Donna said, quirking an eyebrow. She held her hands in front of her, disoriented by the lack of spatial reference. "The construction sounds from earlier… the TARDIS, it was dematerializing while we waited." Her jaw dropped, a light bulb going off in her head. She stalked across the room toward where the Doctor was standing. "You!" she said.

"What? Me?" the Doctor replied. "I'm over here," he said, waving a hand.

She left the reflection she had just accosted and gave the real Doctor a slap over the head.

"Oi! What was that for? I thought you would be happy!"

"You went back over your own time line!"

"I saved us _hours_ of work. And you two would have just slowed me down anyway."

"I believe you've just opened your mouth and inserted your foot, Doctor," Isobel said.

"You know very well you aren't supposed to travel over your own line!" Donna was more than exasperated, but less than fuming. "This was one of _your _rules. Wibbly wobbly, timey wimey, remember!"

"Can't I at least explain…"

"That construction noise from the yard, that was you all along?"

The Doctor nodded sheepishly.

"But, how did no one hear you? I could hear it," Donna said. "You could hear it. Didn't someone come ask you what you were building? Did you _plan_ on this?"

"They couldn't hear it because they weren't listening for it. Sort of like an auditory chameleon circuit. I don't, well maybe…" he said. "You know the wibbly wobbly bit?"

"Yes, we've been through this."

"No, I'm afraid I'm quite lost," Isobel said, still distracted by the mirrors.

"I don't usually travel back over my own time line. Causes too many problems. But I knew where I was previously, how to avoid myself. You get it Donna," he said, coming to grab her arm. "The whole 'look at me bit' from the other day, well, I guess it's still yesterday for you…"  
"Just how long have you been working on this?" Donna asked.

"Oh, fourteen hours, give or take a quarter."

"Fourteen hours!"

"Come on, you know I had to go forward to go back. I hadn't yet reached the point where I could go back and start construction until well, just a few minutes ago for you," he said. "We can argue about this later. I need to explain the controls."

He took her arm and offered Isobel the other as he shifted one of the mirror panels in the corner. "Look at me," he said. "That's what Donna said the other day. I knew that was an insult by the way," raising his brows at Donna.

"Got plenty more where that came from."

"Anyway," he said, opening the panel and extracting a switchboard. "The whole 'look at me' thing. I stuck the angels in a quantum lock last time by forcing them to look at each other at all times."

"Which we don't know how they got out of, by the way," Donna said, still frustrated.

"Right, but, I think I've fixed it. What if they didn't look at each other," he said, gesturing to the room. "What if they were stuck looking at _themselves_?"

Isobel stared at the mirrors. "Doctor, that's brilliant."

"It was all Donna," he said, clearly an attempt to get back in her good graces.

"I'm not finished with you," Donna said. "I knew about the mirror bit, which I was told we would be working on later, but what's all this then?" she said, indicating the control panel.

"Ah yes," the Doctor said, flipping a switch. The room suddenly shifted into darkness and silence. The brightness of the mirrors had overshadowed the distant hum of some generator, which had now stopped running. He slid his hand up another control and the lights returned, the gentle hum of the generator picking up like the melodic sounds of the TARDIS in the vortex. "Mirrors are only as good as the light they refract. There needs to be a constant light source to power the cage."

"But how did you get that kind of power?" Isobel asked. "There's not enough electricity in the whole of England now to keep something like this powered indefinitely."

"You're right there," the Doctor said. "Horrible time rerouting those primitive wires. Had to direct the central line from London all the way out here!"

"You'll cause a power outage over all of England!" Donna said, swatting his arm.

"Technically, I already did," he said, dimming the lights further. "However, I converted the existing glass roof into self-sustaining solar panels. I've also included a small weather vane to harness the wind energy. Did you not see it on top?"

"It. Is. Nightime, dumbo," Donna said.

"Right, well, you should really take a look. A little rooster and everything. Anyway, those are only the initial power sources, and they'll work as fail-safes should the main power source run out, not that I think it will."

"And what's the main power source?" Isobel asked.

The Doctor looked taken aback. "Why, you are, of course."

"Me?"

"Yes, you, remember?" the Doctor asked, steering her to the middle of the room. "You! With all of your residual energy from the unfinished time line. The whole, Time Lord cooties, or carbon footprint, not that that's what it _really_ is. We can siphon it off of you to power the cage. I mean, I was able to create the solar panels and wind gauge to conserve and store their energy on intake, but the left-over power of a Time Lord could power this thing for millennia!"

"So, you have to hook me up to this thing? Am I going to be on some kind of leash?" Isobel asked warily.

"No, of course not!" the Doctor said, running back to the control panel. "For the extraction, you'll need this," he said, handing her a small ball with a cord running out of it. The ball was made of tinted-red glass, with odd symbols etched on the sides.

"That looks familiar," Donna said.

"Yes, it should," the Doctor returned, not meeting Donna's eye.

"Those symbols, they look like the ones in the TARDIS. And… red, symbols, energy, transport. Doctor, they're huon particles!" Donna said, jumping up and down. "Oh I get it, I get it all now!"

"That's quite lovely, but am I about to be electrocuted?" Isobel asked.

"No, no, quite the opposite," Donna said, now ecstatic. "Huon particles. That's how me and the Doctor met! They're these bits of ancient, uhm, dust thingies that are like tiny, itty-bitty concentrated balls of energy. You said, you went underground after your deposal, oh that's brilliant!" Donna squealed. "Do you want to explain? I know that's your favorite part."

"No, go on, you're doing well," he said, punching another button.

"Huon particles. That's the energy source the angels are honing in on. That's what saved you from the Daleks. Do you remember a few years back, at Christmas, when there was that big flood issue with the Thames?"

"I should've known that was you," Isobel said, eyeing the glass ball warily. It started to glow.

"Yes, well, the Empress of the Racnoss was harvesting the energy from all of these huon particles. We thought we drowned them, or disintegrated them, or, well, I'm not sure what really happened, but they never left the underground! You were in the underground in London, and it had been Torchwood headquarters, of course you were there!"

Isobel looked between the Doctor and Donna, guilt on her face. Her shoulders slumped.

"No, it's not your fault," Donna continued. "You must have been hit with those particles. And then those particles attracted more particles, which attracted more, which means you're just this big vessel of energy! I guess they were just waiting there in your body until they sensed the danger from the Daleks, the enemy of the Time Lords. The Time Lords created the particles, maybe they had some sort of… oh, I don't know, sensor that activates a teleport when Daleks appear?" She turned to the Doctor for confirmation.

"It's as good an answer as anything." He rotated a knob. "I'm going to need you to hold that tight," he said to Isobel. "Go ahead, you're doing brilliantly."

"Like you said, how could you escape that Dalek laser? It couldn't of hit you. You woke up blocks away from your house, and the Daleks were gone. How did you move? Head injury? Nah, nothing's ever as simple as a head injury. It was a teleport. The huon particles somehow sensed the threat and activated, basically dematerializing your body and saving you from the Daleks! But then, the energy was released. The angels could sense it. The first time the Doctor encountered the angels, they were after a power source, something found in the heart of the TARDIS." Donna looked back at the Doctor who now had his arms crossed and was leaning against one of the mirrored panels, watching her admirably. "And HUON PARTICLES are one of the elements in the heart of the TARDIS, one of the energy sources sustaining it in the vortex! They locked onto you, the harbinger of huon. They thought you would be the one with enough energy to steal. But, why are they here now?" Donna asked, her face faltering for the first time. "What do they want from you now? Maybe they didn't get it the first time around…Doctor?"

"Very good Donna, couldn't have said it better myself. Well… maybe I could have." He ducked as an ill-timed swat whooshed over his head. "They did lock onto the energy," he explained, moving closer to Isobel. "But they didn't know how to harness it. They touched you, thinking the particles would merely transfer, but you'd been underground all those months, breathing in the residual particles. They were _inside_ you." He crossed to stand directly in front of Isobel and Donna, the threesome going on forever in the reflecting mirrors. "But they only took the energy from your time line. They sent you here, twenty years ago, like they do to all of their victims. Only this time, they realized what they lost: the energy. It took them that long while, that 20 years that you were developing your identity, raising your son, adjusting to a new culture, to find you. And of course their arrival coincides with mine, mainly because I'm that lucky, but also because the TARDIS huons are attracted to your huons. But no more!" he finished, cupping the glass ball in his hands. "After I activate the machine, it will siphon off the huon particles from your body and feed them into a generator. The generator is self-sustaining, and can light the interior of the mirror-cage forever. Because of the TARDIS connection, I can shift the greenhouse a second out of sync with real time so no one can see it, sort of an enhanced perception filter. You'll just have to explain the vanishing greenhouse to the Earl."

The Doctor and Donna stepped back, leaving Isobel alone with the glass energy converter. They were both smiling happily, but Isobel seemed far more anxious.

"Is it safe?" Isobel asked.

The Doctor's face fell. "I mean, there's risk with any energy transfer this large."

"Would it harm the house? The village? How widespread are we talking?"

"Um… nuclear?" the Doctor chanced.

"Nuclear!" Donna and Isobel said in unison.

"Not, necessarily nuclear, but it's definitely up there," the Doctor explained. "This is the only way to rid yourself of the excess energy. I'm sure it'll work fine."

Donna backed away from Isobel slowly, inching towards the door.

"You're sure this is it?" Isobel asked.

"The technology is tested, if that's what you're worried about," the Doctor said.

"On what?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Will it hurt?" Isobel asked.

"Nah, it might tingle a little. How did you feel with the huons, Donna?" he asked.

"It didn't hurt. It wasn't uncomfortable, but, to be honest, I wasn't shifting all of the residual particles from my body into a machine."

"But it'll keep them trapped, forever," Isobel said, squaring her chest and raising her head. "For the greater good, I suppose?"

"The greatest good," the Doctor said, smiling.

"Alright then, I'm ready," she said. "Don't you two need like, x-ray glasses or something?"

"We'll be fine," the Doctor said, taking Donna's hand and leading her toward the hidden panel with the switchboard. She was surprised to find all the buttons were labeled in English, with a large, red, 'master switch' sticker over the main plug. "Care to count us down, Prime Minister?"

"Sure. Five…"

"Four…" Donna chimed in.

"Three…" said the Doctor.

"Two…" Isobel whispered.

"Stop right there! Remove your hand, sir!"

The Doctor let go of the master switch and turned around to face Matthew, pistol in hand.

_**Reviews are like that part in the show when the Doctor reveals his brilliant plan, and you're the one who inspired it. **_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Left it at a bit of a cliff hanger on that last one. But you didn't have to wait very long. Multiple chapters in a single day. That always makes me happy. Thanks for reading and Enjoy :)**_

The Doctor let go of the master switch and turned around to face Matthew, pistol in hand.

"Step back!" he yelled, aiming the gun right at the Doctor's chest.

"Oh, now I do dislike guns," the Doctor said.

"So do I, which makes this all the more difficult. Over there," he gestured, and the Doctor and Donna moved to a corner away from the control panel.

"Matthew, what are you doing?" Isobel gasped.

"What are _you_ doing, mother?" he nearly shouted at her. "What is going on? Put that thing down and get over here!"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the Doctor said.

"Yes, well good thing you're not me then," Matthew said sarcastically.

"No Harriet, don't. The huon particles have locked onto the converter. I need to activate the electric field without you disengaging from the ball." The Doctor moved slowly toward Matthew.

"Stay back!" he said, brandishing the gun.

"Doctor, come back," Donna said, worry increasing with every wave of his wrist. Matthew looked tired, scared, and nearly deranged every time he glanced at his mother.

"Mother, mum…" Matthew said, voice cracking. "What are you doing? What is this place? What are _they_ doing here?"

Isobel lowered the glowing orb and cast a glance at Donna. "Matthew, this is the Doctor."

"Yes I know, Dr. Smith."

"No," Isobel said, stepping toward him. "Just, the Doctor. And I'm Harriet Jones," she said, fishing into the pocket of her robe. "Former Prime Minister." She displayed her credentials, which Donna was amazed that she kept on her, to her son. "And I'm asking you, as your mother, to put the gun down."

Matthew stared at the card and back at his mother, regarding her like a stranger. He stiffened, tightening his grip on the stock, knuckles and face turning white. "No," he said defiantly. "This is a trick, mother. You're confused. This… imposter has taken advantage of you." He left his mother and stalked toward the Doctor.

Donna couldn't take it; she stepped in front of the Doctor. "No!" she said. "Listen to your mother."

"Who are you to order me around? Some… swindler? Con artist? What do you want from us?" he said.

"Matthew, this is the Doctor, and Donna Noble. They never lied to you," Isobel said, placing her hand over her son's outstretched arm. The converter rested in her other hand, pulsating with a rose-colored glow. "The Doctor, he's an… alien."

"From where?" Matthew spat. "Serbia? Germany?"

"No, not like that. He's… he's not human, son. But he's here to help us."

"Mother," Matthew said, lowering the gun and taking her arm. "What have they done to you?"

"Nothing. Honestly, nothing. There's something that's looking for me. Something… otherworldly. I can explain everything, just not right now."

"Why not now? What could possibly be more important than your sanity?" Matthew said, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"Your life, son. Because, if I'm not mistaken," Isobel said, stepping around Matthew, "there is a stone angel perched in the open doorway of the greenhouse."

* * *

Upon this announcement, several things happened at once. Matthew, Donna and Isobel all turned their heads toward the entryway. The stone angel, released briefly from the quantum lock, now stood between the group and the control panel.

"Donna?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Eyes on angel."

"Yes sir."

"I'm really sorry about this, chap," the Doctor said. Before Matthew could move, the Doctor knocked the gun from his hand and released a sound wave from the sonic screwdriver. The high-pitched screech tunneled into Matthew's eardrum, causing him to double over and clutch his head in pain. The mirrors on the walls began to vibrate. The Doctor leapt past the angel, shutting the greenhouse door quickly behind him. "Ready Isobel?" he called over the screeching.

"Go, Doctor!" She yelled back.

He flipped the switch, sparks shooting off the panel like fireworks. The surge caused the lights to flicker, allowing the angel to advance a few feet nearer to Isobel. She stood resolutely, the intrepid matron boldly facing the statue as Donna and the Doctor dragged a disoriented Matthew closer to the door. Isobel began to smolder, the huon particles floating around her body. They enveloped her in a golden haze, then swirled around her hands and the burning globe. Suddenly, the particles shot outwards, bouncing off the mirrors as the globe sucked them into itself, confining them in the now permanently glowing glass.

The angel was barely centimeters from Isobel, arms outstretched, reaching toward the globe. The angel's eyes were open and staring, revealing a shining marble that looked fluid and life-like.

"Doctor?" Isobel called.

"You're good, you're fine. Just step back and bring the globe to me."

Isobel retreated from the presence of the angel, dragging the globe and connected cord to the Doctor.

"You were fantastic!" the Doctor said, extending his hand for the converter. He then placed it in what looked like a large cylindrical vial with two metal pieces on the ends. He plugged the vial into an empty space behind the console and moved the mirrored panel over it. "Bit like a mega-battery, now, and you're huon free!" he said, patting Isobel on the shoulder.

She ignored the Doctor, dropping to Matthew. "Matthew," she said. "Matthew, come on now." She jostled his shoulder slightly.

"Mother?" Matthew asked groggily.

"Yes, that's right," she said.

"Are you alright?" he asked, sitting up against the mirrored panel. "Those lights, they were burning you. And that noise…Hrrrummph!" Matthew turned quickly, much to quickly for a man who was supposedly incapacitated. He tackled the Doctor and the pair went rolling round the floor, Matthew throwing punches and the Doctor blocking them as best he could.

"Hey now!" Donna shouted. "Alright you two, stop this!" She had seen worse things than two attractive males going at it, but she wasn't about to let one of them get hurt. She grabbed the back of Matthew's coat and gave the biggest heave she could, just barely pulling him off the Doctor. The Doctor scrambled up in a flurry, retreating behind Isobel.

"Mother!" Matthew shouted. "How can you defend him?"

"This isn't going to work," Isobel said. "Not now… maybe someday, though." She looked into her son's eyes, wide, worried, and sparkling with hurt; tears unshed. She turned her back to him and whispered to the Doctor. "Do you have something? Something that can make him forget?"

"I can't erase his memories, but I can knock him out," the Doctor whispered. "We'll get him back to bed. Play it all off like a dream."

"Go get it, then," Isobel instructed, and the Doctor slipped out the greenhouse door.

"Thank you Donna, if you please," Isobel said, giving her a 'shove off' motion with her head. Donna backed away to the far corner and rested against the wall, waiting for the Doctor. "Matthew, sit down," Isobel continued.

Not needing further prodding, the young man collapsed to the floor. He had on nothing but his night robe and nightshirt, his boots thrown on and untied as if they had been an afterthought. His hair was disheveled, and his naturally blue eyes looked red and bruised, the Doctor having landed a blow during the tussle.

"Matthew, what you just saw, this stone angel here," Isobel said, motioning toward the now stationary angel, "the Doctor saved me from this. He saved you from this. I know this is a lot to take in, and it's been a very stressful time for you recently, but I want you to know I did this for you. To help you."

The Doctor slipped in behind them. Matthew was so focused on his mother; he paid no attention to the Doctor walking up behind him.

"One day, after this is over, after the war, and once you have the estate… once you have a family," Isobel whispered, placing her hand on his face. "One day, you'll know. I'll tell you all about it. But not now, you're not ready for it now. Doctor." Isobel nodded.

"Mother, no! I—"

And Matthew fell silent, the Doctor injecting him with a harmless yet potent drug.

"He'll just sleep," the Doctor said, lifting the man into a sitting position.

Isobel sighed sadly as she looked at her son. "We should get him back to bed. It'll be dawn in a few hours."

"He'll probably sleep through the day," the Doctor said. "But don't worry. This drug is perfectly safe. Donna, if you could…"

The Doctor pulled the unconscious man to his feet with Donna's help, and the two dragged him back toward the estate after locking the greenhouse and placing it a second out of real time. "Enhanced perception filter combined with an altered time synchronization. I'll tell you how to disable it later," the Doctor said, struggling under the dead weight of the man.

They got him into the main entrance, but had to rest him on a couch to catch their breath.

"Please tell me he's only on the second floor," Donna gasped.

"We'll go up these stairs and down the hall," Isobel whispered. "He and I have a wing to ourselves."

"Great," Donna said, throwing Matthew's arm over her shoulder again. "It's like a bloody relay, but we've got a body instead of a baton."

They made it up the first landing before they had to stop again.

"Doctor, are you alright?" Isobel asked.

"Lovely, just a little… sore," he said, clutching his ribs. "That son of yours, you really don't need to worry about him, especially in the hand-to-hand combat training."

"But can you lift him?" Donna asked.

"Oh yes," the Doctor said. "I'm fine."

"Here," Isobel said, picking up Matthew's feet. "Let's keep going."

They hauled Matthew up the final flight of stairs and rounded two corners, finally coming to a room Donna sensed as familiar. She couldn't believe she had just been in the house a few hours ago, checking the rooms for signs of angels. They opened the door and got Matthew into bed.

"I don't know what to tell you about the bruises," the Doctor said.

"Somnambulism?" Donna tried.

"Maybe, if he buys it," Isobel said. "He's never sleep-walked before."

"Come on," the Doctor said. "His subconscious is still overhearing our conversation." He pulled the two women out into the hall.

Donna glanced over the Doctor's shoulder, quirking an eyebrow at a swinging door.

"What's that then?" he asked, turning around.

"Nothing, I think," Donna said. "Probably just paranoid again."

"Right, well," the Doctor continued. "The Huon transfer worked brilliantly. Readings from the orb were steady, not to mention we caught one of the angels already!"

"But what do we do about the other three?" Isobel asked.

"Yes, well, that presents a bit of a problem," the Doctor said. "We can't use you as bait anymore, your energy signature is more or less nonexistent now. Matthew's out of the question, considering he'll be unconscious for the next several hours. His energy will still register, but not while he's been dosed with the foreign drug. We'll have to get someone else."

"What do you mean, 'someone else'? I don't want to bring anyone else into this debacle if I don't have to," Isobel said. She leaned heavily against the wall. "I know this is all in a day's work for you two, but I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Then let's regroup," Donna said. "You go on, get a few hours of sleep. Recharge from the decharge, if you will. You'll be safe for now, with the particles gone. We'll run back to the TARDIS, brainstorm, and call on you later this morning. Say we're expected for morning tea or something, just get us in the house."

"Right. Yes, good idea," Isobel said, starting down the hallway. She turned before entering her room. "You said that knowing the truth was better than masquerading under a lie. But not now; he can't take it now. Timing's everything."

"Don't I know it," Donna said, looking meaningfully at the Doctor.

Isobel disappeared behind her door, and the Doctor and Donna descended the stairs hand in hand, traipsing off into the last few hours of the night. Behind that swinging door, young Daisy Robinson stood flabbergasted, wondering how many more bodies she would see dragged through Downton in the wee morning hours.

_**Antarctica is cool, and so are reviews. So be cool, people. Like Antarctica. **_


	10. Chapter 10

_**So... if any of you lean toward the Doctor/Donna pairing, you could probably read into that here. But, it could still be read as a friendship piece, just leaning toward the dramatic, like Pompeii. I don't own these guys and gals. They belong to people far smarter, far wittier, and far cooler than me. Enjoy :)**_

They crossed the threshold of the house and exited the massive French doors. Sweeping the interior a final time, Donna caught a glimpse of the hour. Three-forty-five in the morning. Another two hours or so until dawn. Like the Doctor said, the mirrors, and consequently, their eyesight, were only as good as the light present around them. They knew they had to evade the other three angels for two hours, and would then have the advantage upon luring them to the now-sort-of-invisible-but-not-really greenhouse. Donna was actually on a high at the moment, retreating to the safety of the TARDIS, having already defeated one adversary with relatively little fuss. Besides the gun, and the inherent possibility of throwing a power surge through the whole of Great Britain, oh, and the drugging of the next heir to one of the biggest estates in northern England. But, like Isobel said, it was a normal day for the Doctor/Donna duo.

Donna placed a hand over her mouth, yawning loudly.

"You're tired."

"You think so, Sherlock? It's only three in the morning."

"Well you can catch a few hours once we get back to the—"

They stopped dead after rounding the walled gardens. Standing in the dimming torchlight, surrounding the TARDIS, were the three other stone angels.

"Damn," Donna whispered.

"Language."

"Damn… it?"

"That's really not helping."

They remained in their frozen position, the Doctor mumbling to himself all the while.

"Care to share with the class?" Donna asked.

"I only share when I've got the right answer."

"So… no plan again."

"Nope, no plan."

"Fabulous." She chanced a glance at the sky, only to see the clouds blocking what little moonlight they could work with. "I know you've probably figured out this bit, but we've got to get to a place with some light."

"Yes, but we can't go back inside. You heard Isobel, the servants will be up and doing their chores in a matter of minutes. Not to mention I might have diverted the house's main power source to the greenhouse for the initial charge."

"It doesn't have to be electric, it can be… well, anything! Do you have a candle, or a lamp, or, I don't know, a glow stick?"

"Why would I have a glow stick?" the Doctor asked.

"Do you remember the rave on Koorkellan?"

"I try not to."

"Well, you had plenty of glow sticks then."

"I think Jack stole all of mine."

They remained in their position by the wall, flinching as the torch began to blink and dim.

"We've got to do something!" Donna said. "We can't just stand here for two hours while the batteries run out!"

"I've got a plan, but you're not going to like it."

"Well, I'm blanking on ideas, Sunshine, so get on with it if you've got to."

"Alright, bye," he said, handing her the torch and escaping around the wall.

"What the… BYE?" she yelled, eyes flickering between his retreating form and the angel army. One of the angels had taken advantage of her distraction and moved nearer, the other two standing guard at the TARDIS. She was going to kill him. Slowly, and painfully. In his sleep, when he didn't see it coming. Except, she didn't really know if he did sleep, which would certainly make things more difficult. She could do it while he was flying the TARDIS, when he was distracted. Cyanide, maybe, and she could just make sure there were zero salty snacks in the TARDIS kitchen, lest he attempt another detox. She remained there, pondering further ingenious ways to kill an un-killable alien when she smelled smoke. Wafting on the breeze from the wooded grounds not far off, she sniffed the unmistakable aroma of something on fire. In her peripheral vision, she could just make out a vaguely humanoid shape stumbling through the trees. It was holding a branch, or a small log of some sort, and the wood was on fire. Stepping back slowly, she increased her field of vision to see it was the Doctor, homemade torch in hand.

"It's not exactly a solar flare, but I think it'll do. At least until we can get to the safe house."

"What safe house?" Donna asked.

"There's an abandoned caretaker's cottage a couple of meters into the woods over there. I think we can make it," he said, face flickering in the torchlight. "I've lit a fire, so the interior is nice and bright. There's enough wood to keep it lit 'til dawn."

"So, what do we do here? That's got to be 100 meters off, or more!"

"I'm leaning toward the 'or more' option."

"Are we just supposed to run?" she asked, backing up with the Doctor by her side. "We've got to made it all the way across the grounds and into the forest. What are our chances of getting there? And when I say 'there' I don't mean another century."

"I don't like to put numbers on these things," the Doctor said.

"Yes you do!"

"Well, not low numbers."

They had backed their way past the gravel path that marked the trail lining the grounds. The duo stood in the middle of a field with nearly 30 meters to go before they hit the trees. Donna's vision was getting fuzzy. The edge of the electric torchlight just touched the TARDIS and its guard, and the light from the flame the Doctor was holding did little more than illuminate their tired, tense faces.

"Once you get to the trees," the Doctor said, tossing a scant glance over his should. "Keep veering right. Eventually, you'll hit the path. The cottage is another 30 meters in."

"What happens if we don't make it?"

"We're going to make it."

"But if we don't?"

"Then we'll figure out a way to get back here from whatever time we're in."

"What if only one of us makes it?"

The Doctor's form slumped heavily in the torchlight. "Then we'll finish the job we

started. And then, I'll come looking for you."

"Not if I come looking for you first," Donna replied, giving him a small smile.

He returned it with a grin of his own, looking dashing in the firelight. "On three then?"

"Ready."

"One, two… three!"

They dropped their hands, releasing the angels from the quantum lock sustained by the light beams. The Doctor grabbed Donna's hand and pulled her as they plunged into the darkness, Donna's meager torch beam briefly piercing the night sky as she pumped her arms up and down. She could barely see the Doctor as he ran beside her, flaming branch down to its last embers. They made it across the field and crashed into the debris of the forest, forcing the pair to release their hold on each other. Donna continued right, but as the light flashed forward, she caught a glimpse of a stone angel, arms extended, fangs bared, as if she were to run right into its arms. She sidestepped the statue, losing the lock her light beam afforded her. She kept to the right, looking for the trail.

"Doctor!" she yelled. She heard a halloo coming somewhere off to the east, and continued toward the sound of the voice. "Marco!" she yelled. She was stumbling, catching her foot on branches and finding holes in the uneven forest terrain. She looked left briefly, and saw an angel perched over a stump. She continued running, noticing the thinning trees as she approached the path. Risking another look left, Donna ran head-long into a branch, effectively close-lining her as she hit the ground on her back. Hard. Her head was sticky as she groped at the gash on her forehead. She got to her feet, dizzy, only to be face-to-face with another stone angel. If she hadn't of run into the tree, she would have hit the statue full on. Dodging the statue and keeping her light fixed on it, she found the path, and caught a glimpse of the small cottage not fifteen meters away. She was nearly there!

"Doctor!" she called shakily, backing toward the cottage with the flickering beam still trained on the stone figure. It was blocking the path. Maybe the Doctor had already made it there. "You're supposed to say 'Polo'!" she tried again. She couldn't yell anymore, her usually booming voice now hoarse from the night air and the escape. She was getting dizzy and she was swaying, using too much effort to walk backwards. Her vision was doubling, so severe that the single angel on the pathway turned into two. The blood was still coming and she had nothing to staunch the flow. She made it to the porch of the cottage and saw the firelight gleaming inside from the window. "Doctor!" she called desperately.

She staggered inside, turning off the torch. She fell in the doorway, tearing a piece of her shirt off and putting it against her forehead. She heard a crash in the woods to her left, and could just make out the scrawny form of the Doctor lurching through the bramble, not ten meters off. He fell onto the path, seemingly unconscious. She turned quickly and flicked the switch on the electric torch, shining it onto the path where he lay. Two stone angels hovered over the immobile Doctor, frozen. But only so long as Donna could see them, which wouldn't be much longer if she passed out from blood loss or head trauma.

"Doctor!" she called.

He turned his head in the dirt, managing to roll to his side. "Ow…" he groaned.

Donna gritted her teeth and lifted herself from the doorway. She struggled down the stairs and over to the Doctor, the battery from the electric torch still holding on. "Doctor," she said, this time more quietly. The angels stayed frozen as the Doctor got to his hands and knees.

"I'm… dizzy," he managed.

"Don't stand up," Donna said. She grabbed his arms and pulled. "Crawl toward me, they're right above you."

He crawled the last bit of ground separating him from Donna. He stood, unsteady, and the two leaned on each other as they backed toward the cottage. "You look… awful," she managed, getting him up the steps.

"Not half as bad as you. When did ginger become a skin color?" he said, swiping at the blood trails on her cheeks.

"They're all three on the trail," Donna managed, plopping them down on the dirty floor of the cottage. The fire was blazing, illuminating the interior as well as the porch. The light even reached out to the trail, where the angels hovered menacingly.

"Shut the door," the Doctor said.

"Did that blow to the head knock you bonkers?" Donna asked. "We can't see them if we shut the door."

"I've got… an idea," the Doctor rasped. She couldn't focus on him, but she could just make out the cuts on his face and the shiner forming on his eye, though she didn't know if that was from the running or from his earlier encounter with Matthew. He had had a rough night, the poor bloke. But didn't Time Lords have special healing powers or something? Like Wolverine? She was supposed to be the messed up one.

Standing again, she made her way toward the door. The light from the electric torch gave a pathetic flicker, and finally died. "Are you sure about this?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, repositioning himself to the right of the cottage. "And when you're through, hurry back and sit behind me."

"Alright then, you're the Time Lord," she said, and swung the door shut. She bolted it, not knowing if it would do much good, and returned to the Doctor, squatting down behind him. They rested, back to back, feeling each other's heavy breathing.

"Donna, look out the window."

Through the glass, she could see the face of a stone angel, peering angrily into the cottage.

"What do you see?" he asked her.

"The statue. It's looking right at us."

"Yeah, the other two are over here," he said. "Don't turn around, you'll lose sight of it."

"I don't know if I can…" she clutched her head, bringing her sopping wet bandage down. It was redder than Mars. And she should know. She'd been to Mars, twice. "I think I'm going to pass out," she said.

"No you won't," the Doctor said. "Talk to me."

"I can't. We've got to stay in here til sunrise. And even then we'll have to run back to the house. I'm no doctor, but I know severe blood loss when I see it." Her breathing slowed, as did his, and she threw her head back onto his shoulder.

"How did you know they'd be in the windows?" she asked, eyes still focused on the statue face.

"Guess, really," he said, leaning farther into her. "I just thought, if I were the enemy, attacking from the outside, I would want to know exactly where my opponent was. You wouldn't storm the keep if the army was in the stables, would you?"

"S'pose not," Donna managed. She took a deep breath, and began tearing at her shirt again.

"What you doin'?" the Doctor asked.

"Making another bandage."

"Where's the cut?" he asked.

"Forehead."

"Just, hold on a tic," he said. "Don't let me, uhm, poke you in the eye or anything."

Donna couldn't see what he was doing, but somehow his hands were on the sides of her head, feeling around to the front.

"Ooof! Nose!" she snorted. "And watch the eyes, I still gotta see this thing."

"Sorry!"

His hands migrated to her forehead, gently peeling away the layers of hair stuck to her skin with sweat and blood. She winced slightly as his fingers ran along the gash, starting in her hairline and ending just above her left temple.

"It's long," he said, tracing the injury with his forefinger. "But not extremely deep. Head wounds just tend to bleed heavily," he said. "You'll need a stitch or two once we're back to the TARDIS."

He dropped his hands and she heard a quick _rip_, then saw a floating bit of cloth cross her vision and fall into her lap. Not taking her eye off the window, she did her best to tie the cloth bandana-like around her head. She probably looked like a pirate who got into a fight with a shark and lost.

"What about you?" she asked.

"Feel for yourself."

"How did you…"

"Lift your arms above your head, bend at the elbows and keep looking at that window," he said.

She did as he instructed, her fingers finding their way into his ample head of hair. She rubbed gently, finding the lump that must have briefly knocked him out on the crown of his skull. She pushed her body against his back, letting her hands drift down his face. She could feel the swelling from the black eye, and he flinched as she brushed it.

"Oooh, sorry," she said.

"No, it's fine."

Her fingers trailed over his high cheekbones, and she could feel tiny nicks in his skin. She found a long scratch, wet from the seeping fluid, puffed out along his jaw line. She ran her hands up his face, sensing a bit of stubble.

"Do you shave?" she asked.

"What?"

"Do you shave, you know, your face?"

"Infrequently," he said. "I had a mustache once upon a time, though," he giggled.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"I've been through the mill, and all you can ask about is my facial hair."

"Well, I've never seen you shave before."

They fell into silence. The light from the fire cast long shadows on the cottage walls, not that either could see as they stared resolutely out the windows. The angels remained in quantum lock, trapped by the stares of Donna and the Oncoming Storm. Donna shifted against the Doctor, losing some of her energy as she came off her adrenaline high.

"Talk to me, so I don't go to sleep," she said.

"The inhabitants of Schmell don't like it when you call their planet Smell, and take offense to anyone sniffing when they step off a spaceship. It doesn't smell bad, exactly, but—"

"Not about that," Donna said. She brushed her hair behind her ears and rolled her neck. "You left me."

"What? When?" the Doctor asked incredulously.

"At the church earlier. And to go do that construction, and to come light this fire."

"I dinna' _leave_ you, not really; I came back."

"Yeah, but the battery was dying."

"I knew it would last."

"And they were surrounding the TARDIS."

"It was locked, they couldn't get through."

Donna didn't know if it was the excitement of the night, sleep deprivation, or the head wound, but she felt tears coming on.

"Just don't… leave me," she whispered.

"Never," he said, grabbing her hand.

"No, don't. Really. I know sometimes you might think you have to, but, if you can help it, don't."

The Doctor started to say something, but paused. The haze of dawn was beginning to peak through the trees; though they had a while to go before it would be light enough to try a retreat.

"I would never leave you," he said. "If it was up to me, I would keep you every time."

"Not every time."

"What do you mean?"

"You were gonna leave me. Worse than that, you were going to leave me with nothing. No memories, no thoughts, just… dumb old' Donna, clueless as usual."

"When was this?"

"The metacrisis. You know," she whispered. They hadn't talked about the possibilities of the metacrisis had Donna's plan failed. They avoided the issue, chocking it up to extenuating circumstances. But for some reason, Donna felt it was important to mention.

"I didn't… I couldn't…" he paused. "At the time, I didn't think there was another way. But look at you!" he said passionately, raising her hand and giving it a squeeze. "Look at you now! You're brilliant, you are. You're so much cleverer than me," he said, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

"If something happens, some sort of reaction, I don't know when, or if it'll even happen. But if something starts happening, with me, some side-effects left over from the metacrisis, can you promise me something?"

"Maybe…"

She inhaled sharply. "Will you just, let me go?"

"What?"

"Just let me die. I would rather die knowing you, knowing us," she said, squeezing his hand in return, "than live some empty half-life without you in it. Not even a sliver of your memory. It's not fair to you, I know, but it's not fair to me either." The tears were sliding down her cheeks, the salty wetness stinging the scratches on her chin.

"Donna, don't… just—"

"No," she said firmly. "This is like my last will and testament. I get to decide how I want to go. Gah, you are so stubborn sometimes!"

"Me? You're the one arguing about how you want to die!"

"Always twisting my words, aren't ya Spaceman? I'm just talking about, I dunno, respecting my wishes."

"I do respect you, and your wishes," he said.

"Yeah, yeah. I guess you do. You've been nothing but hospitable to me on the TARDIS. Real gentleman-like, too. I'm really glad to have such a good friend," she threw her arms behind her, attempting an awkward, backwards-hug-like movement. "I must confess… I resented you for a little while there, though."

"What? When? What did I do?" innocent confusion evident in his tone.

"For a moment, just for a moment, I thought you were afraid of me. During the metacrisis, when I had all of your memories, all of your knowledge, plus the human, it crossed my mind, fleetingly, though, that you might be… well, jealous. It also crossed my mind to become queen of the world and make Nerys be my servant, but what can you do?"

When the Doctor didn't respond, Donna continued.

"It was a stupid thought, really, because I know you were more concerned with my brain burning up like a firecracker, but I resented you for it, for that… non-existent jealousy that you had for me. Thinking back, I don't remember much, but I remember the feeling of it. All of that sheer power. It was… consuming. Addictive. It felt great and terrifying. But I knew that that was the way you felt," she said, squeezing his hand again. It was her turn to rub comforting circles in his palm. "You're so amazing, so powerful. I've often wondered if that's how you feel all the time. Just… brimming with energy. Like a dam, about to explode."

The Doctor remained silent.

"You'll think I'm bonkers, but I even remember the names," Donna said.

"What names?" the Doctor asked, speaking cautiously.

"Well, the amazing Oncoming Storm couldn't have a partner with a name as dull as 'Donna'. So, I might have brainstormed during my, uhm, brainstorm."

"What did you come up with?"

"Oh, nothing particularly clever. It would have been something like, 'The Oncoming Storm and the Impending Inferno'. That was my favorite. I also liked the 'Baleful Blaze'."

"Were there more?" the Doctor asked.

"There was the Imminent Inferno and the Combative Conflagration, but neither of those had a nice ring."

"Really sticking with the fire theme, aren't we?"

"Come on now. Us gingers, if we're gonna be saving the universe, best we represent and be remembered for it!"

"You'll be remembered; how could anyone forget you?" he said.

"Very funny."

"No, seriously, you're brilliant. One-of-a-kind."

"I can feel my head expanding as you speak," Donna joked.

The Doctor's tone changed quickly, voice lowering. "I can show you."

"Show me what?"

"How you're special. _Why_ you're special. I only just discovered it myself."

"So you've been telling me I'm brilliant this whole time without actually believing it? Nice."

"I've always believed it. But now I think you will, too. I had suspected something like this after the metacrisis regeneration," he said, shifting his weight so that he was no longer back-to-back with her. "When Anna bumped into you earlier, she felt your chest. That only confirmed it for me."

"Doctor?" she said hesitantly.

"Just keep your eyes on your angel, I want to try something. I pre-apologize about the hands, I've gotta watch out my window, too." She felt him slide to her left side, now shoulder-to-shoulder with her. "Like I said, don't take this the wrong way." His hand drifted up her arm and to her shoulder. Resting there briefly, he felt his way along her clavicle to the center of her chest. She was pretty sure this was the second time she had been felt up tonight, what with Matthew's dangling limbs brushing body parts as she helped haul the man back to his room. At least this time the man wasn't unconscious. Her pulse quickened as the Doctor left his hand perched in a rather precarious position.

"Might I ask what you're doing?" Donna said. "Besides obviously copping a feel?"

"Listen Donna. I want you to listen to your body, to your heartbeat."

That was the last thing she expected to come out of his mouth at the moment, but, seeing as she had nothing else to do, she tried. She concentrated on her breathing, on his warm hand in the center of her chest as it rose and fell.

"Don't close your eyes, though. Keep 'em on the angel. Just listen," he said again.

She took her own hand and placed it over his, trying her best to feel her heartbeat through her tattered shirt and their entwined fingers. The only other sound was the crackle of the firelight, still burning, as well as the chirping of a bird every now and then, greeting the dawn. She strained her ears, but also attempted to listen with the rest of her body. She had felt her pulse roaring in her head earlier, but why was this so bloody hard? It didn't help that the Doctor's fingers were warm and soft against her skin, confusing Donna to no end. Between the skin and bones and cartilage of their hands, she finally felt the steady thumps of her own heartbeat. She listened to the pattern, mouth gaping slightly as she latched onto the throbbing. Her eyebrow rose, and a grin broke out on her face.

"You… I… is that real?" she asked, moving theirs hands to another angle.

"Yep, I've been feeling it for the past half hour, sitting with your back against mine."

"How is that even possible?" she asked.

"Here, maybe this'll help." He pulled their hands away, and, grabbing her left in his left, placed them over his own chest. "Listen to mine," he said.

She heard it then. Not the easy two-beat pattern of a human heart. His was more frantic, faster and severe, the four-beat thumping of a Time Lord's heart.

"And now you, Donna Noble, Impending Inferno or whatever," he said, moving their hands back to her chest. "You're more like me than anyone in the wide expanse of time and space. A result of a _two-way_ metacrisis."

She listened with her body again, trying to pinpoint the three _bum bum bums _that now made up her own heart beat. How had she gone weeks without sensing such a blatant biological change? It sounded like the rapping on the door whenever someone new came to visit the house. Not the easy knocking of a familiar neighbor, or the hurried knocking of a desperate person, just the concise, attention-getting knocks of someone, or, something, new and… different.

"How can this be happening?" she asked. "Is this some sort of… mutation? What does it mean for me… physically?"

"I don't rightly know, not now, anyway," the Doctor said. "I can give you an exam once we're back in the TARDIS, but, like I said, I only just now picked up on it."

"If you could see my face, I'd be smiling at you right now," she said.

"It's because you're brilliant. You've been brilliant this whole time, only now, you've got the proof," he said, removing his hand from her chest. He ran it haphazardly through her hair, then shifted so he was back-to-back with her again. "I think it's light enough outside for us to start talking escape plan."

"Exit plan R?" Donna asked.

"Now where would we get a camel at this time of day?" the Doctor said.

"Only joking."

"I was thinking more of Exit plan B24."

"How did you skip B1-B23? And that one requires more coordination than either of us have right now."

"I think actually being able to see the trail will be a great benefit for us this time," the Doctor said.

"So we're with exit plan A then?" Donna asked.

"Oh yes," he said, rising to his feet. "We're running."

_**Reviews are like Tate and Tennant's chemistry in 'Much Ado About Nothing'. Exciting and electric! **_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Rounding the final curve with the homestretch in sight! Hoping the 'actiony' writing is coming across well. I feel stronger doing dialogue. I don't own them. You know it. I know it. Let's just face facts and let me take 'em out for a spin on this site every now and then. Enjoy :)**_

Running away from quantum-locked angels is much easier when you can see them. In fact, Donna wouldn't call it so much running as briskly backward walking, as she and Doctor would retreat a few steps and then turn a bend. The angels would gain some ground, but losing their own awareness of the Doctor and Donna's location through the trees put them at a disadvantage as well. They would appear mere feet from where the pair were retreating, but never quite in arms' reach. Donna couldn't help but feel relieved, as neither she nor the Doctor were in much condition for further running. Perhaps some shaky wobbling or even a teetering skip, but certainly not running. Once they made it back to the cleared grounds, the TARDIS was in sight in one direction, the angels frozen by their gazes at the edge of the wood in another. The early morning still provided some protection from occupants of the massive estate, so they meandered over the gravel drive and along the walled garden undisturbed. Slipping into the TARDIS and locking the door, the pair collapsed onto the metal grating in the console room.

"Didn't you say the angels almost got in last time?" Donna asked, staring up at the coral around her.

"Yeah, they did, but that was because I wasn't on board to enhance the isomorphic locks."

"Not quite sure what that means, but good on you."

He rolled over to face her. "I know you're tired, but we've got to keep going. They're still out there, and Matthew's unconscious. That's makes him all the more vulnerable if they get in the house, all those huon particles just lying there for the taking."

"What a night." She turned her head to look at him. "We need a vacation after this."

"Anywhere, anywhen, it's yours."

"Alright, well, right now, I say medical bay. Because if I look half as bad as you, I'll end up breaking every mirror in that greenhouse you worked so hard on."

"Then we best get you to the medical bay then," he said, standing. "Can't have you destroying my masterpiece." He pulled her up and they leaned on each other, walking into the depths of the TARDIS to secure some much-needed first-aid.

* * *

They surfaced from the confines of the TARDIS an hour later. After some futuristic antiseptic, a few botched stitches, and one surprisingly speedy CAT scan, the pair looked merely ruffled on the outside. Donna herself was literally ruffled, wrapped back up in the hideous corset and some period dress made of ancient fabric that itched and hung too heavily on her sore body. The doctor had even abandoned his trademark trainers and greatcoat to go with a proper suit. They really needed to get into the house, and standing out probably wasn't going to secure them an invite. The Doctor said he felt bad for Donna having to be uncomfortable, and so, just this once, he would suffer with her. Not that they were opposed to sneaking in; they had of course breached far more guarded facilities, but they didn't want to cause trouble for Isobel, who had to remain with these people even after their departure. So, secure invite was plan A. Sneaking in, avoiding detection, and somehow tying this whole escapade into a neat little bow: plan B.

It was still relatively early, but they couldn't wait much longer. The entire household was at risk, so the Doctor rang the doorbell and the pair waited.

It seemed like ages before the butler, Mr. Carson Donna remembered, opened the door.

"Good morning," he said, though Donna got the distinct impression it was _not_ a good morning.

"Yes, halloo, good morning Mr. Carson," the Doctor said. He gave him a quick smile. "You remember us from the other day?"

"Most distinctly," Carson returned.

"Yes, well, we're here to call on Mrs. Crawley. Molesley told us she was staying here."

"It's rather early for a call," Mr. Carson said, "but I will see if she is down to breakfast. If she agrees, I'll return for you." And he swiftly shut the doors in their faces.

"He's not coming back, is he?" Donna asked, scanning her right and left for signs of evil garden décor.

"Let's believe the best in people, shall we?" the Doctor said. After a minute's delay, the Doctor slumped against the side of the entryway. After five minutes' delay, he was sitting, tossing stones into the drive.

Donna finally heard some footsteps approaching the entrance, and she gathered the bored Doctor up by the arm and faced him toward the door. Mr. Carson opened it, face like stone. Not an angel, but a rock, a really cross-looking rock.

"I'm sorry, but Mrs. Crawley is not awake yet. And the Earl has asked that you leave the premises immediately. If you wish to speak with Mrs. Crawley, AND if she so wishes to admit you after this revelation, you may call on her at Crawley house, _not_ at Downton."

"Wait, sorry," Donna interrupted. "What revelation?"  
"As if you don't know," he said.

"No, really, we don't. What seems to be the problem?" the Doctor asked.

"Your responses insult me. You well know there is no record of a Dr. Smith out of the Medical Corps office, and no record of a Donna Noble in any region of London. Please, do not do us the dishonor of calling again."

This time, it was less of a shut and more of a slam.

"That went well," Donna said.

"Moving on to plan B," the Doctor said, heading back to the TARDIS.

"We can't just leave," Donna said, following the determined Doctor. "Like you said, Matthew's just lying there; he could be picked off at any moment."

"Right, which is why we're going to his room. It's not likely we'll get in without being detected, but the TARDIS can."

He pulled Donna into the ship and started winding knobs and jamming levers until the controls were set. The ship picked up, jostling the pair around the consol room like any normal flight through the vortex, except that this one lasted mere seconds. Donna went to the door and cracked it open.

It was dark, but she could just make out the deep reds and mustards of the wallpaper in the room. The curtains were parted slightly, enough to let the sunlight cast a warm haze on the ornately decorated boudoir. She slid out, heel finding plush carpet as she exited the TARDIS. She looked to her immediate right and nearly bumped into one of the wooden columns on the massive four-poster bed. Asleep in the bed was Matthew Crawley, face slightly bruised but tucked in safely. Next to him was a high-backed chair, seat-cushion rumpled but empty. Donna sighed, hoping Isobel had gone back to her room and gotten a few hours of sleep during their down time. Well, not _their_ down time, they had been busy; but Isobel's downtime.

She heard the Doctor shuffle out, nearly knocking over a lamp in the process. With the bed and the wardrobe, not to mention the TARDIS in the room, the place didn't offer a lot of wiggle room. He came and looked down at Matthew, lips turned down when he saw the bruise.

"Did I do that?" he questioned.

"Don't know your own strength, huh? Fly like a butterfly—"

"I most certainly do not," he said indignantly. "Isobel's room is just down the hall."

"How will we know he won't be disturbed?" Donna asked. "You said he'd sleep through the day. Can they wake him? Won't it seem a little odd that their cousin has suddenly fallen into a coma, not to mention has a bruise over his eye? Oh yeah, and what about the fact that there's a BIG BLUE BOX in the middle of his room!"

"Perception filter, remember?"

"I think even someone not looking for it would _perceive_ a large wooden police box taking up half the room of a comatose man."

"Well, let's just get this whole thing sorted before they come looking for him, then."

"Fine by me," Donna said, brushing past him for the door. She snuck a peek into the hallway, and, upon deeming the coast clear, she motioned for the Doctor to follow her. They made it nearly five feet before they saw movement down another corridor. They flattened themselves against the wall, blending in about as well as a Slitheen without a body suit. Someone rounded the corner and bumped into Donna, eliciting a slight yelp and scattering an armload of linens about the walkway.

"Shhhhhh!" Donna said.

"What are you two doing here?" Anna Smith said. "You were supposed to be _gone_ by now." She bent down and started gathering the rumpled sheets.

Donna and the Doctor knelt with her.

"Yes well, we ran into some trouble, got it all sorted though, but then Matthew had to go and get the gun, and then there was that point where I was unconscious, not to mention having to drug him—"

"Doctor, you're not helping," Donna said, picking up a sheet.

"Right, sorry. Anna, we're nearly there. We just need to see Mrs. Crawley one more time. Then we'll be out of your hair forever," the Doctor said.

"But we might need your help," Donna added.

"What do you want me to do? I'm not getting involved in all this nonsense." Anna stood, stacking the linens in her arms.

"Just a tic," Donna said, pulling the Doctor for a private conference by his arm. "We're going to need another huon host to lure the angels in. Matthew's out of the picture, and Isobel's been neutralized."

"You make us sound like assassins."

"Oi, focus! But the angels were on her and her bloke yesterday like Vashta Nerada on a chicken leg. Do you think she's a carrier?"

"Any one who's had contact with them before the transfer would hold some residual energy. Isobel was the main carrier, but Anna's probably been around her enough to emit some sort of energy reading."

"I don't know what it means, but I can hear everything you're saying," Anna said indignantly.

"Right, yes, well then, if you would be so kind as to just stay where you are," the Doctor whipped out his screwdriver and nearly stuck it in Anna's ear. He then proceeded to wave it about her head, Anna's eyebrows rising skeptically at the high-pitched buzzing.

"Just stand still, he does this," Donna said.

"She's a carrier, alright. Now, where might you be off to this morning?" the Doctor asked.

"I've got to restock the sheets in the linen closet upstairs for when I make the beds later today. Then I help the girls dress and start on morning chores."

"And how necessary are those things, exactly?" the Doctor asked.

"Necessary enough to keep my post!" Anna said, brushing past the pair. "And you've already made me late. Don't bring my name up when you're caught trespassing. It's a wonder I don't go find Mrs. Hughes right now—"

"No, Anna, come back!" Donna said, hurrying after her. "If you could spare, half an hour, twenty minutes, I'm sure we could fix this whole situation. You talked to Isobel, you know we're just trying to help."  
"Even if I believed a word of what she said, which I'm not saying I do," Anna opened a small door in the hallway and began stacking sheets on a shelf. "I would want to stay as far away from you two as possible. Helpful though you may be, trouble always seems to be right around the corner." She shut the closet door and gave Donna a stern look.

"You don't know how right you are. Trouble does seem to follow us," Donna said, pointing over Anna's shoulder.

"What are you… oh, no."

Standing behind the door Anna just shut was a weeping angel, leaves and mud stuck on its elbow. Not that the angels had been exactly fitting in the woods or in the greenhouse, but the angel in the hallway of Downton radiated all kinds of wrong amidst the right tapestries and antiques.

"If one's breached the interior the others can't be far behind," the Doctor said. "We need to find Isobel and get on with this now if we want everyone staying in this century." He tapped Donna on the shoulder and started backing away. "Anna, I understand if you don't want to get into this any deeper, but people are at risk, and you can help. And this starts now."

Anna began backing up slowly. "I guess I didn't think they'd ever come here."

"We need to get downstairs, round through the kitchens to the greenhouse," Donna said.

Anna started backpedaling quickly, coming even with the Doctor and Donna. "Alright, I'll help you. But people are already up and moving, how are we going to avoid them?"

"I'll think about it. But we need to go get Isobel. Can you stay here with the angel while we go get her?" the Doctor asked.

"Doctor, you should stay, too. I'll go get Isobel. Four eyes are better than two," Donna said.

"Alright, hurry back. Her room's just around the—"

"I know where it is, stop giving directions, stupid bloke," she mumbled the last part under her breath. Turning the corner she swore inwardly, glimpsing another angel across the open second-story. She kept her eyes trained on it as she jiggled Isobel's doorknob. She hoped to God this was the right door.

"Isobel?" Donna called uncertainly. "Isobel? Mrs. Crawley? Prime Minister, you're late for your cabinet address!"

"What? Who… I'm here. What's happening?" Isobel said, clutching at the door as she donned her robe. "What the— oh hell."

"It's a good thing your maid didn't hear you," Donna said, starting the retreat down the hall.

"Yes well, might as well swear while I still can. I've lapsed into old habits since you and the Doctor have been back."

"Sorry to break your good record then," Donna returned, noticing the corner. "Alright, we're about to have to turn. We'll lose it behind the wall."

"Where's the Doctor?"

"He's handling another one. And Anna's there, too. She's agreed to help us."

"Oh, good. Where are they?"

"Outside of Matthew's room."

Isobel's face fell. "What? Why?"

"They're centering in on him. Like you said, you've spent more time with him than any other person. He's got the most lingering particles and energy. But I've got a plan. We've just got to get back to the Doctor."

They turned the corner together, releasing the angel from its lock. Jogging down the hallway, the two entered the last corridor to find Anna and the Doctor conversing.

"And I don't understand why O'Brian dislikes him so," Anna was saying.

"What was that?" Isobel asked.

"Oh, nothing," the Doctor said. "Just making friends. Hearing life stories. You know me."

"Yeah, I do, which is why I should tell you, there's another angel behind us," Donna said, noticing the angel she and Isobel had seen had followed them to the end of the corridor. They could not pass either way without brushing the angels, forcing them to enter one of the few rooms or linen closets lining the hallway.

"But I think I've got an idea," Donna said.

"I'm all for suggestions," the Doctor said.

"Do you still have any of those materials you used to make that energy ball converter thing in the TARDIS?"

"Maybe."

"Well, I think we could do this…" and the Doctor and Donna started hurriedly talking behind Anna and Isobel's backs.

"Lady Edith's been planning to come visit you," Anna said to Isobel.

"Me? Why?" Isobel asked.

"She's been rather distraught lately. She had been spending lots of time with Sir Anthony, but ever since the garden party he hasn't called once."

The Doctor and Donna gesticulated wildly at each other, paying no attention to the other conversation. The other two women remained unaware of the pantomime.

"Sounds somewhat suspicious," Isobel added.

"The girls get into petty disagreements. I do hope Lady Mary's had nothing to do with it," Anna said.

"Lady Mary is a peculiar creature, I still don't know whether Matthew fully understood her motives."  
"Alllllllright then," the Doctor finally said, clapping his hands. "Plan settled. Anna, you're coming with me. Donna to the angel on the left, Isobel to the angel on the right. Give us ten minutes and then come on in." He grabbed Anna by the wrist and pulled her into Matthew's room, shutting the door behind him.

"What was that all about?" Isobel asked.

"He's just being stubborn," Donna said.

"What's he got Anna in there for?"

"We've got to get the angels away from Matthew," Donna said, staring the stone statue in the face. "Last night we did the particle transfer with you, and that was successful. We need another mobile host, one that can lure the angels out to the greenhouse. Anna's still got some residual particles on her, so we're going to try another transfer, just from host to host and not from host to battery this time."

"With just that slip-shod equipment he had in the TARDIS last night?" Isobel asked.

"As soon as he drains the energy, Matthew won't register anymore. We're hoping they'll follow the bigger energy source of the huon particles and forget about Matthew's timeline energy."

"Hoping?"

"Most of our plans involve hoping. Also luck, fortunate mishaps, frenemies, running, and if we're lucky, maybe a teleport, or a natural disaster."

"Lovely."

"Right."

There was a knock at the door, and the two women retreated from their prospective posts until they were back to back outside of it.

"Alright, we need to get in there," Donna said, fumbling for the knob. "Lucky thing this door swings into the room," she said, pushing it open. "Just back in with your eyes on it, and I'll shut it and lock it."

Isobel did so, and Donna swiftly shut the door and turned the lock. She also put one of those antique chairs against the handle for good measure. Matthew was still lying in bed, head cocked to one side and mouth open, a sliver of drool pooling next to his chin. He was not an attractive sleeper. Anna was sitting in the chair that had been pulled to his bedside, looking far more energetic than previously. Donna supposed a couple thousand particles created by the cleverest beings in the universe transferred into your body could do that to a person.

"Everything okay then?" Donna asked.

Anna nodded.

"Brilliant," the Doctor said. "Good plan. Shall we, then?" he said, opening the TARDIS door.

"Are you sure they won't get in here?" Isobel said, casting a wayward glance at her sleeping son.

"I'm never sure of anything," the Doctor replied.

"Well then," Isobel said, entering the TARDIS, "let's hope for the best then."

_**Reviews are like... when I'm not lazy to come up with a decent simile. But they are appreciated.**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Oh look, the end of the tunnel. And some light as well. Almost there, everyone! Thanks for sticking with this story. Enjoy :)**_

After a brief trip in the TARDIS, an even briefer explanation of what it was to Anna, and the briefest confirmation that yes, it was in fact bigger on the inside, the foursome stepped outside and into the walled garden.

"You were off a bit," Donna said.

"Four meters! Five at most. I did so well earlier getting into his room. That was talent," the Doctor said.

"Uhm… Doctor?"

"Yes Isobel?"

"I think one of the gardeners just leapt over the wall."

"Then let's get this done," he said. "Look over there." The angels had perched themselves onto the different wall corners.

Donna never liked when they stood themselves on pillars or buildings, or any high places at all. It was one thing to have your energy stolen, but another to have a jillion pound statue fall on you out of sheer meanness.

"Greenhouse, come on!" she said. They bolted from the garden, angels popping into view as they bypassed the stonewall. They startled two groomsmen heading for the stables, and another dressed in a green uniform.

"Anna, what's going—"

"I'll speak with you later, Branson. Don't tell Lady Sybil," she said breathlessly, rounding the corner toward the greenhouse.

The Doctor waved dramatically with his sonic screwdriver and the greenhouse materialized in front of them.

"How did you… what the, who are you?" Branson, said, head careening around the corner.

"Branson, not now! Please, speak of this to no one!" Anna said. "I'll be back to the house in a bit, just get back to work."

"Anna, let's go," Donna said.

Anna vaulted inside, and Donna watched as the green-suited man jogged off in the opposite direction. She followed Isobel and Anna, and observed the Doctor as he made sweeping motions with his sonic along the open door frame.

"We've got to enhance the signature, get them inside," he said.

"Well let's turn a fan on her, smell wafting on the breeze. I mean, I could probably smell a steak from 30 meters off."

"Donna, that's not how it works."

"Well if we had some sauce…"

"Do you think they have any idea what this is?" Isobel asked warily.

"Maybe. They've lost one of their collective," the Doctor said, nodding his head at the angel from the previous night. Staring at itself in the mirror, the statue lost all hope of escape. At least it was a pretty statue, Donna thought. It would be horrible to look at yourself for all eternity if you were a gargoyle, or worse, had a bad hair day.

"Why not try to boost the signal?" Donna pressed. "You know, like that whole subwave network thing Isobel did back in the present—past… that time we did that thing! Can't you tweak some things in the panel and transmit a signal like a mobile phone?"

"Not a bad idea," the Doctor said, bounding toward the hidden console. "Anna, can you come over here? I'll need to get a reading off of you."

Anna stalked toward the Doctor, gazing dumbstruck about the room. "It's all mirrors. You made the greenhouse disappear, and then you turned it all into mirrors."

"Yeah, sort of a cage, really. For the stone. Extremely fragile, though, if you think it through. Stone gets knocked over, it breaks, or cracks. Mirrors get hit, they break, all come crashing to the ground. Lot of bad luck that would be!" he ranted, twirling knobs and pushing buttons ferociously. "Alright, almost… there!" he said, smacking a long lever down as far as it would go. "Now, if you'll just stand here for me," he said, pulling Anna up to the console.

"Doctor, something's at the door!" Isobel said.

"Oh no you don— ahhhh!" the Doctor said, brandishing his sonic at the two very male, very not-stone forms of John Bates and the green-suited man from earlier. Branson, Donna remembered, from Anna's hurried warning. He had apparently ignored it and went for help instead.

"Now what the blazes is going on?" John said, stepping into the greenhouse.

Branson entered as well, assuming Anna's previously dumbfounded expression. "Why's it all mirrors?"

The Doctor turned back to his machinations, irritated. "Donna, could you possibly stand at the door or something? If we get anymore people in here, there won't be any room for the statues of death we keep trying to catch!"

"What are you doing to her?" John asked as the Doctor flailed about Anna with some wires attached to his screwdriver.

"I'm not hurting her. We're just trying to get the angels in here, so we're amping up her energy signal."

"So you're using her as… bait?"

"Mr. Bates, not now," Anna scolded.

"But what's with the mirrors?" Branson asked again. "Oh," he started, giving a quick bow. "Good morning Mrs. Crawley."

"Good morning Branson, but please, if you're just going to stand there like a dolt at least get out of the way," Isobel said, ushering him bodily to the side of the building.

"Okay Anna, grab this," the Doctor said, handing her the battery with the energy globe. "Just one more wire and…"

The Doctor plugged in a small purple wire at the base of the console and sparks erupted. The lights of the greenhouse flickered as the generator powered down, allowing the one imprisoned angel to move several feet toward the group.

"Heads up!" Donna yelled, evading a cascade of sparks as she shielded Anna and pulled the Doctor to the ground. Isobel and Branson crouched in the corner, unable to fend off the oncoming statue. "Sometime today would be nice!" Donna said.

The battery Anna held gave off a distinct hum, and only got louder as the Doctor jammed a plug into one end. A few more sparks and a jolt, then the surge subsided and the lights came up to full power, illuminating the people in the greenhouse. John had his cane over his shoulder like a bat, about to knock the marbles… marble, out of the statue. Branson hovered awkwardly over Mrs. Crawley, as if aware of danger and yet still constrained by some lines of confusion and impropriety. Anna had crouched in the corner by the console, holding the precious battery overhead as if it were an atomic bomb. The Doctor had fallen on top of Donna, covering her from the live electric jolts emitted from the ever-angry console.

"Oi, Doctor," she said, pushing him. "Is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

"What?"

"Get. Off. Now."

The twosome stood up, and the Doctor gingerly took the battery from Anna.

"Now what?" Donna asked.

"Now we wait," the Doctor said.

"Do you still need her for it?" John asked, indicating Anna.

"Not really, but you're honestly safer here than back in that house," the Doctor said.

"And why is that?"  
"Please don't make me explain again."

"Hey, Martian, angel at five o'clock," Donna said.

The Doctor turned around, catching the angel at the doorway. "Alright, we've got to get them inside," he said, backing the group to the far wall.

"What's them?" Branson whispered. "I'm very confused."

"Hush now, we'll explain later," Donna said, giving the man a thorough once-over for the first time. "Well, you're not a bad looker are ya?"

"Focus…" Isobel said.

"On the count of three," the Doctor said. "We blink. All together. Someone will go early, someone will be late. The overlap will create just enough time for them to get in. I don't know how far in, but be ready to move. Okay?" he said, extending his arms protectively around the group. "On my count. One. Two. Three!"

Donna blinked. And the angel didn't move.

"Okay, who didn't blink?"

"Oh, that was me," Branson said sheepishly. "Still confused."

"You're cute… but thick," Donna said. "Blink. You know, that thing you do with your eyes where it all goes dark and then you open 'em again. Like a strobe light, or a seizure. On three. Just real quick-like."

The Doctor resumed counting. "One, two, three!"

And this time, two more angels made it into the room, joining the first one they caught. They had come within two meters of the circled group, eyes obscured by frozen stone hands but faces contorted in rage.

"We've got to move back; they know to keep their eyes shut against the mirrors. But we know their range for a single blink now," the Doctor said, urging Isobel and Branson under the angels' arms.

"Come on you two, you've done this before, get on!" Donna said, giving John a polite shove.

They crossed to the one empty corner of the room, counter to the backs of the angels. The only foreseeable problem was the angels' position in relation to the control panel. If that thing started sparking again, they'd have to make it through a couple hundred stone of stone to get the energy stabilized.

"Alright everyone, once more, if you will. One, two, blink!"

This only served to move the three angels on the interior closer to them. With every blink they gained little ground, and the fourth angel still needed apprehending.

"Isobel," Donna said. "Go check outside and see if the other one is standing guard."

She slid underneath Branson's outstretched arm, grabbing his sleeve. "Come on, you. You're just taking up space." She jogged toward the entrance, head swiveling side to side out the door. "It's right here, Donna! Right beside the greenhouse."

"Keep your eyes open!" the Doctor yelled back. He chanced a glance at Donna. Amid the sparking equipment, the disoriented servants, the lurking statues, Donna sensed the Doctor's mind heading down an alternate path. One that was far too risky to undertake. "Anna, John, your turn."

"But you said she was bait!" John exclaimed. "Is she safe now? Free of… whatever they're after?"

"She'll be fine. I've got a plan," the Doctor said, jaw clenching. "Just get outside the greenhouse and keep your eyes on the angel by the door. But get back. Tell Branson and Isobel to back up as well. Like, across the grounds back."

John and Anna didn't need telling twice; they distanced themselves with surprising quickness for a bewildered maid and a man with a hobble.

The Doctor turned to face Donna, his eyes finding hers, while she looked steadily at the statues.

"No," she said.

"You don't even know what I'm going to do yet!"

"I know a self-sacrificing look when I see one. You really do have a savior complex."

He shifted towards her.

"Don't touch me," Donna said. "I'm not leaving you to be shredded to bits by a bunch of ruined mirrors."

"If I can generate enough energy to cause an explosion of the huon particles, we won't have to worry about the cage remaining self-sustaining. They'll be gone for good, and we don't need to bother with that one straggler outside, who obviously knew about the trick with the mirrors! He'll be taken out by the explosion, too," he argued, fidgeting all the while.

"Think carefully about what you're proposing, Doctor." She refused to meet his eye. "Yes, this is a rescue mission. We promised Isobel and her family safety, like we do most people. But you'd be killing them. You brought me along to temper your decisions, so this is me, asking you, warning you. Are you ready to live with what you're about to do?"

"There's not much other choice…"

"There's always a choice. You said that. It's the decisions that make the man, or Martian. I'll not judge you either way, but be prepared for a backlash, more from yourself than from anyone else, if you intend to go through with this."

She held her eyes on the angels in front of her, tone and demeanor unwavering. He stood close behind, eyeing the strange beings as they stood, locked forever, as long as visibility would allow.

"I'm unfamiliar with their kind, so I'll try one more time." He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze as he moved to the center of the three angels, purposefully cornering himself between the statues and the control panel. He opened it and placed his hand on a menacing looking lever. "You know what's coming," the Doctor said, addressing the beings. "We can end this now, one way or another. This is your final chance. Return to your home planet or you'll force my hand. Literally."

Silence. And then, an echo of sibilant stirring. Faint whispers faded across the mirrored walls, bouncing from surface to surface as the strings of breathy syllables finally formed words.

"Time Lord," the whispered echoes uttered. "Time Lord. Creator and Destroyer. Beginning and End. We. Are. Yours." The whispering grew urgent, filling Donna's mind as well as her ears. An undercurrent of another language, familiar though foreign, rumbled below the whispers. "We feast on time, are held by time, withstand and yet weather over time. We are the children of time." The echoing effect made it difficult to distinguish where one word stopped and another began, sending shivers over Donna's skin. The Doctor stood resolute throughout the speech, hand still firmly grasping the lever.

"The Time Lords are the only children of time. They are long since gone. Return to your planet, or you will join them," the Doctor said.

Donna's eyes began to water, the linguistic undercurrent stirring sensations in her mind she hadn't felt since the metacrisis. She quickly wiped at her tearing eyes, granting the final angel access to the doorway. Four pair of eyes on the outside couldn't keep the last statue out of the greenhouse. Donna couldn't really blame Isobel and the others, but they were stuck now.

"We cannot," the whispers returned. "We are creations of your race. You are our maker. If time is our weapon, our sustenance and our downfall, who other than the Lords of Gallifrey could have dreamt us into being?"

Seeing no reason to keep her distance now that the final angel rested safely in her peripherals, she ducked under the extended stone arms and joined the Doctor's side. His face, unyielding in its glare at the angels, still registered the faintest shock at the mention of Gallifrey.

"It doesn't matter. Leave this place. There are uninhabited planets in all of space and time. Colonize there and leave the humans to their peace."

"What good have we in time that goes unmeasured?" the whispers shrieked. The rumbling grew, insistent as their anxieties heightened, echoes bouncing and fading across glass and space as the greenhouse air seemed to thin. "Time is only as valuable as the energy stored within itself, as the nourishment we receive from lived experiences. From borrowed time."

"But you don't borrow time," Donna inhaled sharply. "You take it!"

"Time fuels us. Without its energy, we are nothing. Is that not right, Doctor?"

A flicker of doubt crossed his face.

"What do they mean?" Donna asked, voice low.

"If they were an invention of the Time Lords," the Doctor said, stoic expression failing, "… they have only Time, only time _energy _to consume. They were created to be destructive forces, forever absorbing others energies to sustain their own. They are… parasites."

"But, if they are a creation of the Time Lords, they could be a link to—"

"Gallifrey."

"Gallifrey! Gallifrey! Gallifrey!" the whispers repeated, echoes roaring like a waterfall. "How can we return to a place that no longer exists?" the whispers asked, the indistinguishable rumblings suddenly comprehensible. The syllables strung together were chants in Gallifreyan, words Donna once knew by heart and phrases packed with the power of a bomb. A time bomb. The Doctor seemed entranced by the words, the repeated whispers of ages past. His gripped on the lever loosened. He lost focus on the angels and turned his eyes on Donna. His face softened. His eyes, previously hard as stone, melted back into the tender look of a man unfinished, unresolved and unable to fix the problem placed before him.

Donna, witnessing a change in decision, though not knowing what that decision might be, grabbed his dangling hand for support. Upon feeling her skin, his head shot back up, and he pulled her close to the control panel.

"You won't stop," he said, flicking buttons and pulling wires. "You'll keep taking and taking, satiating your desire for experience, for time itself. I can't help that you were made this way, but I've got to do something to stop this. Stolen time is precious. Ask any family member of a person whose life's been cut short. It is dear to them, and even a wasted second can mean the world to some people. I'll not let you have it."

He grabbed Donna's wrist and wrapped a flexible copper wire around it. "You can't be here during the explosion."

"Explosion? What?" she yelled, staring at his swiftly moving hands. "Well, neither can you! What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm returning some stolen time," he said simply.

"And how might you be doing that?" Donna asked.

"No time to explain. Ha! Irony," he said.

"What do you—"

"Bye, Donna." And he mashed a button with his palm.

A bright light flashed and she felt a jerk on her wrist, reeling her round as she tried to keep her balance. Righting herself, she realized she now stood fifty meters from the walled garden across the grounds at Downton. The greenhouse was no more. In its place, rising high in the clear morning sky, were puffs of smoke and scattered debris, a mushroom cloud haunting the grounds. She looked round, scanning the surroundings for signs of stone or flesh. She didn't see the Doctor anywhere.

_**Reviews are like a little bit of resolution after upwards of 30-odd thousand words... in Gallifreyan. **_


	13. Chapter 13

_**And so, the final full chapter. I think the Doctor had a nice little visit to Downton. Of course, the family would never talk about it because they would hate to have another scandal on their hands. They're still living down the Pamuk incident. That's why it was never mentioned in the second series... obviously. Don't own. But I might try my hand at a few more stories. One never knows. Enjoy :)**_

And so she ran, breath hitching, arms pumping, mind as well as feet, racing. A haze of black smoke billowed over Downton, contrasting sharply with the sparkling bits of glass that rained down over the area. A piece no bigger than her fingernail fell, nicking her arm as she jogged towards the now-nonexistent greenhouse. Great, more blood. She dodged larger shards of discarded glass as she approached the walls of the garden, finding Isobel, Branson, John and Anna ducking for cover like soldiers in a foxhole.

"Oh my God, Donna," Isobel said, pulling her down toward the group. "What just happened? Where did he… Why did he blow it?"

"I don't even… He went and just, booooom!" she said, gesturing an explosion. "And then I woke up off in that field there. He wrapped that wire around me, started hitting buttons..."

"I'm sorry," John interrupted. "But you were in there, and now you're here, but you came running from back that direction. How is that even—"

"I'll bet you anything he did a last minute subversion of the huon particle energy and ran it through the accelerated battery converter, along the copper wire as an elevated transmitter, causing a molecular diffusion through osmotical transfer enabling a last second teleport!"

There were three 'what?'s and one 'of course' as the group and Isobel responded to Donna's rant.

"But what's happened?" Anna asked pointedly. "The sky's raining glass, and there's bits of stone everywhere. He destroyed them, didn't he? He blew them up?"

All eyes were on Donna. She leaned her head against the wall, fatigue finally overtaking her now that the angels were… well, demolished.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Yeah, he did."

"And what about that nervous bloke in the suit," Branson asked. "Where's he now?"

Donna's eyes widened, and she stood, slowly. She heard shouts from the main house as the inhabitants found their way outside, pointing and staring dumbfounded at the smoke cloud. Groomsmen, kitchen staff, the housekeeper and the butler, all stepped gingerly across the paths as they discovered the slivers of glass wedged into ground. She avoided eye contact with everyone, walking determinedly to where the greenhouse once stood. She picked her way through the debris, calling "Doctor!" steadily at the top her voice. She would not cry. She would not. If the idiot wanted to go and blow himself up, then fine by her. If he wanted to be all hero… to leave her, again, then well… she would waste no more tears on him.

"Doctor!" she yelled, staring into the dusty haze left by the huon particle explosion. So much energy. She realized the dust in the air wasn't dust at all. It was heavier. It collected in misshapen piles, the smoothness of it alarming her. She kicked it with a dirtied boot.

"Sand…" she muttered. The force of the blast had been so powerful that it reverted the glass of the mirrors back to one of its original components. Donna shut her eyes and inhaled deeply. He was around here somewhere; he had to be.

"What the hell is going on here?"

A man from the main house exited, eyes wide in horror as he viewed the crater the explosion caused. One of the trees beside the greenhouse was completely uprooted, leaving scattered branches and leaves between the back kitchen and the massive hole in the ground. The man was walking up to every person in sight, yanking the gentleman by the collars and gesticulating wildly at the debris on the ground. His manner suggested he was the Lord of the estate, but Donna couldn't tell through the tears… that is, sand in her eyes.

She had to find the Doctor, and fast. She turned around quickly to avoid the Earl's questions. As she pivoted, she heard a slight crunching noise that did not sound like glass. She lifted her foot, only to drop to her knees to dig through the small mound of sand when the item evaded her sight. Her hands found the cracked object, a silver cylinder of sonic power with a blue bulb at the end. She clutched the screwdriver in her hand and bowed her head, holding back a sob. She stood quickly and saw Isobel talking with the Earl; Branson, John and Anna flanking her for support as his face grew redder and redder. Over their heads she caught sight of several women at the front door. No doubt the Earl's family. Their faces registered shock, and one woman was crying, lace handkerchief blotting the corners of her eyes. She broke her stare to return to her search. Isobel had them, that huge family for support. She had Matthew, when he woke, and the Earl had his family. John and Anna, there was something there. They all had someone. All but her. After everything, he had left her. Again.

She stumbled blindly through the debris, through the greenhouse that once was. She tripped over a lump of stone and gave it a swift kick in frustration. Her toe received a sound throbbing, but she couldn't feel it over the pounding in her head. Her mind was on fire again, but this time, it wasn't from a metacrisis. She was furious, heartbroken, terrified, and yet oddly calm, formulating a plan as she searched for the TARDIS's last location. Once she was safely inside the box's wooden walls, somewhere deep in the confines of her own room, then she would let herself have it. And she'd let him have it, even if he wasn't there to have what was being dished out. The TARDIS was back in the walled garden, she remembered, after their escape from Matthew's room. It couldn't have been more than twenty minutes ago.

So she slipped past the distracted Downtonians, keeping her head down as she spotted the tip of the TARDIS over the garden wall. Avoiding detection was her number one priority. If someone recognized her she would be taken to the Earl and questioned immediately, and she just didn't have the energy to create a new backstory that could somehow compensate for blowing up someone else's property. She was pretty sure Isobel's friendship couldn't gloss over the fact that she'd just caused an explosion of not-yet measureable proportions in Lord Grantham's backyard. She peered around the corner into the garden to find it empty. She was nearly homefree! Or, about as homefree as one could be stuck nearly 100 years in her past with her best friend blown to smithereens. She dug the TARDIS key from the depths of her dress. She was halfway to the door when the entrance to the servant's quarters burst open.

"Stop!" a young scullery maid led two women outside, the older of the two having issued the command. "What are you doing?" the woman asked, Donna catching a hint of an American accent.

"I was just leaving," Donna said, stepping toward the TARDIS. Mere feet to go, and she was going to get caught in the back garden.

"But, you can't!" the lady said. "Robert! Robert, come back here! We're in the garden."

The other woman spoke hurriedly to the young maid, sending the panicked girl back into the depths of the kitchen.

"I've asked her to fetch Mrs. Crawley," the younger woman explained. "I think this woman knows her," she said, gesturing toward Donna.

"Yes, well, that is…" Donna stammered. "We came to call, earlier, for Mrs. Crawley you see—"

"And you were dismissed," the elder American said, hostility brimming in her tone.

It registered briefly that Donna was talking to a Lady-by-marriage, the American who had the miscarriage, and one of her daughters.

"Lady Grantham," Donna ventured, and Cora softened at the correct address. "I was really just leaving, and then this happened and I was… uhm, briefly, incapacitated." Donna was quite a brilliant liar, but today she was falling flat.

"What the devil is going on here?" Robert roared, storming into the walled garden. "I wake today to find my cousin's associates are frauds, the heir to my estate unconscious, and a bomb on my back lawn! Someone had best start explaining before I call the authorities!" he glared daggers at Donna, who was still frozen outside the TARDIS. "You…" he said, disdain dripping from his voice. "All this nonsense started when you showed up. Anna comes home unwell, Isobel becoming estranged, Matthew's state. And what is this box?"

"That was an awful lot of questions at once. Which do you want me to answer first?" Donna said, doing her best to keep from breaking down into infinitesimal pieces, although that might be preferable to jail time in rural Edwardian England.

"Just one," Robert said, closing the distance between them hastily. "The one I've wanted to know since your arrival… Just who do you think you are?"

Donna squared her shoulders and faced the Earl with a false bravado even she didn't know she possessed. "Actually, I—"

"Can't reveal the full details of that information under penalty of death, as decreed by Parliament and the King. We will give as much detail as legal bindings allow, but do watch your tone sir," the Doctor loped into the garden, eyes hard with the expression of the Oncoming Storm. He took Donna's hand and placed it on his injured arm, addressing her first. "Mam'. And you sir, you're speaking with a deputized Lieutenant Colonel in the Royal Corps of Engineers, covert operations taskforce."

The Earl opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the Doctor.

"Ah, ah, sir, how 'bout we talk this whole thing over with a cuppa tea, yeah?"

* * *

Isobel really did like the Earl's parlor. It was far too ornate for her taste, but given the size of his family, she was glad for the extra space whenever guests came over for tea. And this morning, there had been dozens of people bustling in and out of the room, the family and servants doing their best to eavesdrop on the two strangers who had caused an explosion, and the explanations those strangers were providing to the Earl regarding said explosion. Isobel, for her part, sat back on a plush cushion, relaxed for the first time since the Doctor's arrival. The Earl, however, radiated anxiousness, pacing back and forth as he threw question after question toward the Doctor, which the Doctor himself fielded with deft ease, weaving a crafty explanation involving the Royal Corps of Engineers, experimental testing regarding natural gas deposits harnessed through an electric converter, and a direct order sent from the highest authorities, which, he insisted, was above the Earl's security clearance, no matter his current position in society or former position in the army. Isobel, Donna and Cora were the only other three in the parlor at the moment, and sat silently as the Doctor withdrew what Donna and Isobel knew to be a manufactured packet of psychic paper.

"I believe this should answer any further questions," the Doctor said, holding out an envelope to the Earl. "Oh, not that bit, classified, you understand," he said, taking back a blank sheet of paper.

"And I'm to believe you are in charge of this confidential unit in the Royal Corps of Engineers? This… Torchwood, you say?"

Isobel's head shot straight up.

"Right, yes. The Torchwood Institute, out of Scotland, actually, but it's strictly confidential. I can give you no more details regarding the experiments, other than that they are completely necessary to prepare for impending attacks, should something arise," the Doctor continued.

"But Isobel insisted you were just a Doctor," Cora said.

"A Doctor of Science, my Lady, if you'll pardon me." The Doctor gave Isobel an appraising look. "Mrs. Crawley has had direct involvement with Torchwood in the past, but she was smart enough to get out. Know that the experiment conducted this morning was for the good of your family, and for the good of the country. I do not like war, Lord Grantham, and I despise destruction on any level; but, sometimes we get backed into a corner, and have to do things we don't desire to do."

"That is all well and good," the Earl said, handing the packet of papers (though it was only a single sheet to Donna's eyes) back to the Doctor. "But I still don't understand what right you had experimenting on my property without prior notice!"

"If I may, m'Lord," Donna said, following the Doctor's lead. "We spoke with your butler, Mr. Carson, this morning, insisting that we needed to meet with you and Mrs. Crawley. As prior contacts with Mrs. Crawley, we thought that it might be easier to have her help steer the conversation concerning the… ehm, well… readings, on your property."

"Readings," Robert said. "What readings?"

"The energy readings, sir. Surely you noticed the power to the estate had been cut during the night?"

"I can't say that I did. I'm still getting used to the widespread electricity."

"Your estate gave off some of the highest energy readings in all of Yorkshire. Thousands of meters below our feet rests a methane-enriched biomass Torchwood needed access to for energy conversions," Donna fibbed.

"What's all this? You're not making sense," Robert said.

Isobel spoke, finally. "My involvement with Torchwood was minimal," she said, glancing quickly at the Doctor. "But even as a staff nurse, I knew the main purpose was to harvest alternative sources of energy to store and use should the occasion arise. For example, harvesting samples of natural gas right before a great technological war in mainland Europe begins."

"So this was for the war?" Robert asked grimly, as if the fighting were merely a joke until now. Isobel supposed, having always been abroad for the battles, the Earl had a new appreciation for the phrase, 'the war hitting home'.

"Uhm, sure, yes. Yes it was. Unsuccessful, unfortunately, but necessary and authorized by the authorities," the Doctor continued.

"And what about Matthew?" Cora asked Isobel.

"During the night, we were trying to get a hold on the energy spikes," the Doctor said. "He was affected, knocked unconscious by a… uhm…"

"Preemptive explosion," Donna tried.

"Uh, yes, that. We administered a sleep aid, and he should be fine in a few hours," the Doctor said, standing to exit. "But, I charge you, do not attempt to question or jog his memory. It will only cause further distress, as, I'm sure, his mother would agree."

Isobel nodded vehemently.

"But, we really should be getting off. We're to report to headquarters with these… disappointing results," the Doctor said. "But remember, this conversation never happened. And those three maids at the door listening in, they need to heed this warning as well. If so much as a breath of the incident finds way outside of our borders, the country is in grave danger. Torchwood doesn't exist as far as the greater public is concerned, so please don't try pressing trespassing charges. None of this happened, okay? You found no records of Lieutenant Noble or I? That's because we can't exist either. No Doctors and no women in the military, no sir. If, for some reason, you must contact us, do it through Mrs. Crawley. We'll show ourselves out," he said crossing toward the door. "Isobel, a word?"

Donna and Isobel exited the parlor, leaving a bewildered Lord and his wife to cold tea and an empty crater.

"Do you think he'll buy all of that?" Isobel asked plainly, keeping her voice low now that the estate was in full swing. Nearly every able-bodied male had been redirected from their usual chores and ordered to report to the groundskeepers. Men were shoveling chunks of stone into wheelbarrows and hauling them off to the forest that Donna and the Doctor had taken refuge in only the previous night; no evidence, no story.

"It's not like he can send off for a background check for a covert government division," Donna said. "Especially if it doesn't exist."

"Oh, Torchwood exists," the Doctor said. "I created it. Well, not really, that was Queen Victoria, but I was there for it. 1880, I believe, maybe '79. If he does send off for information, they'll be some real government messengers at Downton who are far less friendly than I am. Better keep your eye on him, Prime Minister."

They reached the walled garden and asked the young garden boys to clear out. They hopped up and bolted, eyeing the Doctor and Donna as if they would set off another explosion.

"So this is goodbye, then," Donna said, raising a hand to Isobel.

"It is indeed," she said, rejecting her hand and embracing her. "I can't thank you enough for your help. I'm only sorry it had to end the way it did."

"As am I," the Doctor said, giving Isobel a brief hug.

"I've seen my fair share of destruction," Isobel said, perusing the discarded glass and stone still scattered about the garden. "And I know I'll see more, with the war. I'm sorry the angels had to die, but… I can't be sorry about you saving my son. And I can't be sorry that you saved yourselves. The Earth needs a Doctor," she said, patting him on the arm. "But I've got to go see to my son. Will he remember anything?"

"Only what you tell him. He'll remember us, the strangers, but nothing more. You still have some time to figure out what you want to say," the Doctor said.

She nodded and started back, turning to wave as she reached the wall. "Goodbye Doctor, Donna. And thank you."

As she turned, so did the pair at the TARDIS. Donna looked poignantly back at the massive house as the Doctor plugged in coordinates on the console and the ship dematerialized from Downton into the vortex.

_**Reviews are like getting back to the TARDIS after a hard day's work of Earth-saving-awesomeness.**_


	14. Epilogue

_**Just wrapping things up, cause we don't always get to hear what they talk about once they leave. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with this this far! **  
_

_Epilogue_

"So…" Donna said, eyeing the Doctor carefully. She could tell by his face he wasn't happy with the end result of their adventure. He rarely was. Destruction had a way of wearing on him, and her as well. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said. "Never better." He shoved his hands in his pockets and fell back on the jump seat. "What about you? Hope that teleport wasn't too jarring."

"It's not the teleport that had me jarred."

"What then?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said, positioning herself behind the seat. "How 'bout the fact that you go and blow yourself up and I have to think you're dead for fifteen minutes?" She gave him a sound slap over the back of the head.

"I didn't blow myself up!"

"Well how was _I _supposed to know that, Spaceman? A little bit of warning would have been nice. _Hey Donna, just gonna teleport you outta here while I blow up the angels. But I'll be right out, no need to worry_. But noooooo… Had to go on and make a dramatic entrance, didn't ya? Had to leave me there thinking I was gonna be put in _jail _for blowing up that toff's back yard!"

"You wouldn't have been convicted. At most, you would have been taken in and interrogated, but you could have feigned ignorance—"

"Not. The. Point," she said.

"Right, yes."

They fell silent, watching the console as the time rotor bobbed up and down, powering them to their next destination.

"I'm sorry you thought I was dead," he said.

"It's alright. I think you're dead on a weekly basis, only to remember you don't really die… ever. But I still don't like it," she said, nudging him gently.

He leaned his head back over the seat to look at her. "It feels like dying, sometimes. Every time I kill something, or someone gets hurt. I just want to stop it all, because I just feel so… sad."

She nodded, not knowing what to say, running a comforting hand over his head as he leaned back on the seat. "I think when you stop feeling sad, when it doesn't hurt you… that's when you should stop." She bent down and gave him a quick peck on the forehead, then yanked him back up by his hair. "So, how did you get out then? Realignment of the teleport wire? Some sort of remote switch with the explosion rigging?"

"Something like that, yeah. I used a delayed sensory teleport, one that would detect my body mass upon impending disintegration that could activate as soon as the particles became unstable enough. It was like, detonate the huon bomb, then a picosecond later engage the similarly-powered teleport."

"So, you _were_ in the greenhouse then? For the explosion?"

"Only for a picosecond."

"Oh, only for a picosecond."

"I guess that was one picosecond too long." He got up out of the seat and faced her. "I promised, back in that little house with the angels all around us, not in a good way, like that sounds, but in a bad, scary, time-threatening way… I promised that I wouldn't leave you. Not even for a picosecond."

"Now you're making me sound codependent. I think I can handle myself for a picosecond."

"You could handle yourself for lifetimes, Donna Noble," he said, embracing her. "You should have been the one with all the regenerations. You would've made the most of them." His hands drifted to her elbows as they broke their hug, each of them smiling at the other after another adventure through time. "Do you mind?" he asked, lifting his hand over her chest.

She rolled her eyes. "Go ahead, give it a go."

He placed his hand over her heart again, listening for the triple-beat.

"That is fascinating," he said.

"As I've been told. But just because you have an inkling for 'fascinating' in the future does not mean my chest is open for groping, hear that Martian?"

"I'll always ask permission first," he said, raising his other hand. "On my Noble honor."

The pun garnered another eye roll.

"Can we go to the medical bay? Do an EKG of the heart?" he asked, like a little kid about to go to the amusement park.

"Really? We just got back on here. Can't we rest first?" she argued.

"Plenty of time to rest," he said, grabbing her hand and heading down the hall. "But we'll have a lot of time to kill between now and our next destination."

"Where are we going? It better be somewhere amazing."

"I was thinking a relaxing cabin in the mountains on Artlorieb. Spectacular views in the winter months; think Aurora Borealis times a gillion! Not to mention the snowflakes are multi-coloured like kaleidoscopes."

"We don't tend to do to well with cabins," she teased. "Will there be statues waiting outside to send us to another century?"

"No, but the genetically-altered grizzly bears could throw a hitch in the plans…"

_**THE END.**_


End file.
